


End Up Like a Dog That's Been Beat Too Much

by Tiofrean



Series: Handless Rick and his one and only Daryl the Repairman [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Anal Sex, Because I love motorcycles, But Only For Rick, Caring Daryl, Carol is a good friend, Daryl Dixon Ain't Scared, Daryl Dixon is So Soft He's Like a Giant Chinchilla, Daryl Dixon is a Saint, Daryl Finds a Way For That Too, Daryl said that not me, Daryl takes it away, Developing Relationship, Did I say Fuck Lori?, Disabled Character, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Everyone Loves Pizza Right?, Ex-Cop Rick, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Fuck Lori, Hand Jobs, Handyman Daryl, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Rick, Insecure Rick Grimes, Insomnia, Jesus Loves Everyone, M/M, Motorcycle Rally, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Torture, Performance Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rick Grimes Needs a Hug, Rick is like a newborn colt, Rider Daryl, Self Confidence Issues, lots of hugging, so much angst it's unhealthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 14:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16518335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: He had been called here by Carol’s friend, a man named Rick Grimes. All Daryl knew about him was what Carol had relayed. Frankly, it wasn’t a lot to go on. "People say he’s weird, but he’s just lonely. He’s been through a lot, you know?" Daryl had nodded along, thinking that money’s money, and that he didn’t have anything against weird people. "He lost his hand last year, Daryl. He’s touchy on that subject, so you’ll be fine as long as you don’t pay too much attention to it."Daryl meets Rick, a former cop, who's been injured in the line of duty. His initial task - a few home repairs - gets changed quickly when he discovers that what the man needs more than a good roof over his head is a friend. Who's better suited to this kind of task than Daryl the repairman? If he could only get through Rick's walls as easily as through his leaking roof...





	End Up Like a Dog That's Been Beat Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, folks - a fic about Rick who's lost his hand. I've been toying with the idea of writing it for a long time before I actually did. I wasn't particularly interested in writing it in the canon setting, as it's all water under the bridge now, seeing as it was done by the Governor somewhere during the Prison era. I tried to keep it close, though, or as close as a fic in a no-zombies setting could be. The result is what you can read below - Rick chased by his demons and Daryl trying his mightiest to help him. Can they make it work? Yeah. I'm a sucker for happy endings. See for yourself! 
> 
> A huge thank you to my lovely beta MermaidSheenaz, who, despite increasingly less time, has managed to get through it all and pointed out all the bad things and other bugs for me to fix. If there's anything that's wrong with it still, you know who to blame (ME :D) 
> 
> If you liked it, if you didn't like it, if you want to say hello or talk about Andy Lincoln (or Rick, I'll take both), come to the comments. Comments are a vital part of an artist's life - they keep our muses from starving to death. 
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Daryl pressed the bell, then adjusted the strap of his backpack, listening to the shrill tone that rang somewhere behind the door. He had a feeling that his job wouldn’t end quickly here - the house in front of him looked old, and had been cared for in the past, clearly… now, though, Daryl could easily see all the parts of the roof that were in dire need of repair. The fence wasn’t doing any better with its chipped-off, dirty-white paint. He shook his head, reminding himself that he was here to help with a leaking shower.

He had been called here by Carol’s friend, a man named Rick Grimes. All Daryl knew about him was what Carol had relayed. Frankly, it wasn’t a lot to go on. _People say he’s weird, but he’s just lonely. He’s been through a lot, you know?_ Daryl had nodded along, thinking that money’s money, and that he didn’t have anything against weird people. _He lost his hand last year, Daryl. He’s touchy on that subject, so you’ll be fine as long as you don’t pay too much attention to it._ Hearing that, Daryl had to stomp down the urge to cringe.

He had a brother, you see, and Daryl’s brother had lost his hand, too. It had been a drug deal gone wrong which, however, hadn’t put his brother off drugs. Two years later, he had landed himself in jail for dealing. He was still there, halfway done with his five years long sentence, bitching and yapping about the unfairness of the judiciary system. Daryl could agree - he had hoped his brother would have gotten at least twice as long.

He would have gritted his teeth at the thought of Merle, but the door opened, and the most blue pair of eyes Daryl had ever seen greeted him.  
“Uhm… morning?” The man rasped out, voice deep and croaky. Daryl nodded, adjusting the strap of his backpack again.  
“Hi, ‘m Daryl… you called me. About the plumbing?” Daryl tried not to think about the roof that was probably leaking, going by the state of the tiling.  
“Ah, yes,” the guy confirmed. “I’m Rick. Come in,” he said, then stepped back, making room for Daryl to walk inside.

“So, what’s wrong with the shower?” Daryl asked, waiting for Rick to close the door and lead the way.  
“Started to leak some time ago,” Rick mumbled, shrugging. He moved down the corridor, and Daryl followed, allowing himself to take the man in.

Rick was about the same height as him, but a lot leaner - skinny, even. He was dressed in a comfortable looking pair of sweats with a Police Academy logo, and he had a gray t-shirt that was at least two sizes too big. Daryl let his eyes skim to the side, taking in the guy’s right arm. It was clear that Rick had been missing only his hand - the forearm ended at the wrist. Daryl winced in sympathy, thinking about his own brother, because the injury looked very similar. Rick’s wrist and a good part of his forearm were still covered in a bandage, however, so Daryl could only guess as to the details.

Not that it was any of his business, anyway. He was here to repair the shower, after all. Maybe help with the roof, if Rick wanted him to do that - he could use some extra money to buy parts for his bike.

“In here,” Rick prompted, opening a door to their left. He had just led them through a surprisingly dingy house, only to show Daryl a pretty depressive picture of the bathroom. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with it, not really. It was just that… it was bare. No rug on the floor, off-white tiles everywhere, a single toothbrush and a hair comb lying on the side of the sink. Daryl frowned, seeing the comb - Rick had a buzz cut, so the comb surprised him. Maybe Rick used it to comb his beard… It _was_ long enough to do that - silvery gray and covering a better part of Rick’s face. It didn’t look combed, though.

Daryl shook his head slightly, then dragged his gaze to the shower.  
“Alright. Fill me in,” he muttered, looking at Rick.  
“It started leaking here, about a month ago,” Rick pointed to the side. Daryl nodded. “Then it started to leak here… three days ago I found a puddle on the floor after the shower.” Rick shrugged, and Daryl squinted at the bottom of the shower.  
“Ya ever had the silicone replaced?” Daryl asked, pointing at the sealant between the tiles and the tray.  
“Yeah…” Rick said, clearing his throat, suddenly looking a lot sadder. Daryl decided to let it slide. “It was a long time ago, though.”

“Think we should change the sealant, then,” Daryl nodded.  
“Can you do that?”  
“Ya got thirty bucks?” Daryl asked, smirking. Rick looked a bit taken aback, and he was ready to lower the price, but then Rick explained.  
“Thirty? Does it even cover the price of the silicone?”  
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Daryl gruffed out.  
“Alright. When can you start?” Rick asked, gazing at the shower. There was something weird in the way he kept his injured arm close to him, but Daryl didn’t want to be nosy, so he tried to keep his eyes away from it.  
“Give me an hour. Need to grab my tools and the silicone.”  
“Okay.”

And so it was decided. Daryl went back outside, taking a bit more of the house in on his way out. It was a lonely place, he was sure of it. There were photos hanging on the walls, but they were all covered with a noticeable layer of dust. The living room that Daryl caught a glimpse of made his skin crawl for a moment - it was littered with empty bottles. But, Daryl figured, Rick didn’t smell of alcohol when he had greeted him today, his speech wasn’t slurred and his moves might have been awkward with the hand missing, but they weren’t sluggish, so maybe the guy didn’t have an alcohol problem?

He seemed like a nice man, ridiculously handsome even with his eyes all sad, and Daryl didn’t really think about him as a potential threat. Not like his own dad had been…

Hopping on his bike, Daryl made a mental note to visit Carol later, after he was done with the repair of the shower. She lived right beside Rick, so it wouldn’t be a long walk.

 

-&-

 

“Hey, Rick,” Daryl said, walking into the living room. He had come back with the necessary tools and got straight to work. He had scraped out the old sealant, then cleaned the surface with some rubbing alcohol to get rid of any oily residues. He had been ready to put the fresh silicone into the gaps, when he had noticed a weird looking tile. His curiosity had won and he had pushed on it, cursing when it had broken off with a small crunching sound. It had fallen down, leaving Daryl with his eyes opening wider.

“Yeah?” Rick answered from the couch. He was sitting at the far end of it, pressed against the arm rest, his bandaged forearm cradled protectively against his belly.  
“There’s a problem with the shower,” Daryl started, walking closer. He held out the broken tile, showing it to Rick, who eyed it silently. Daryl went on. “It broke off, so I checked the mortar underneath. ’S all wet. Whatever’s wrong with yer shower ‘s not only the silicone.”  
“Okay?” Rick said, as if it was a question.  
“The leak may be bigger than we thought. Maybe a broken pipe or somethin’, dunno yet.”  
“Can you fix it?” Rick asked, raising his eyebrows at him. Daryl shrugged.  
“Can _try,”_ he said, because yeah, he could at least try to find what the hell was wrong with the shower.  
“Alright.” Rick nodded, dragging his eyes back to the screen of the TV.

Daryl turned around and walked out, stepping over one of the bottles. He frowned down at it, noticing that it was awfully dusty, too. Maybe whatever problem Rick had that pushed him to drink was long forgotten by now? A lifetime of living with drunk bastards told Daryl that Rick wasn’t an active drinker, not by any stretch. Sighing to himself, Daryl went back to the bathroom, trying not to think too much about Rick’s blue, melancholic eyes.

It took him two hours to find the source of the problem - the pipe beneath the drain was fractured. Daryl had to take the whole shower down to discover that, dismantling it to pieces until he could remove the plastic tray from the bottom of it. It had been mounted there in a wrong way, so it caused unnecessary pressure on the drain. Rick wasn’t heavy enough to break it with normal use, but if he had misplaced his foot and stood right above it, the plastic could have broken.

“Found what’s wrong,” Daryl announced, walking back into the living room and finding Rick in the exact same spot on the couch. The man glanced at him, and Daryl couldn’t help but think how tired he looked.  
“Oh?”  
“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “The drain’s broken. I can fix it, but I need some spare parts, and the store’s closed already. Can do it tomorrow, though.”  
“Okay,” Rick agreed, eyeing him. There was something about him that called out to Daryl, told him to help this man.  
“What time d’ya want me ‘ere?” Daryl asked, and Rick shrugged.  
“Whatever suits you, I ain’t got plans…” he mumbled.  
“Nine o’clock?” Daryl risked, biting the inside of his cheek. He knew he was an early riser, but he was still aware that not everyone liked to get up that early. Daryl didn’t know why, but he felt a need to get on this guy’s good side.  
“Alright,” Rick said, looking as if it didn’t really matter.

 

-&-

 

“Daryl! Come in!” Carol greeted him with a wide smile. She ushered him inside and gave him a quick hug, one that Daryl actually returned. It wasn’t that he didn’t like hugging, he just wasn’t used to people doing that. But Carol was like his sister, and he felt comfortable enough in her presence to let his guard down.  
“Sophia’s home?” He asked, stepping back, looking behind Carol’s shoulder. She shook her head.  
“No, she’s at her friend’s place. Some kind of a pyjama party…” she said, leading him to the kitchen.  
“‘S a shame. I brought her something.” Daryl took a keychain out of his pocket. It was a small plushie unicorn, complete with wings and a rainbow. Carol’s eyes sparkled when she saw it.  
“Awwww, she’s gonna love it! But you didn’t have to!” She have him a look, and Daryl shrugged.  
“Wasn’t nothin’,” he mumbled, biting his thumb. He had seen it on the gas station, on his way to Rick’s house. It made him think about one of Sophia’s t-shirts, the one with a huge unicorn printed all over the front. He _had to_ buy it.

“Want some tea?” Carol asked, and Daryl nodded, sitting down at the table. He felt at home here - Carol had been his closest friend for a long time now. She had been through hell with her husband, but thankfully, that abusive asshole had died from heart attack a few years back. She had moved to a new house, found a job at the nearby diner, and was leading a quiet, peaceful life.

“You look thoughtful,” she said, placing a steaming mug in front of him. Daryl shrugged.  
“Met Rick.”  
“Oh!” She smiled. Widely. “How did it go?”  
“The shower’s still broken,” Daryl gruffed out. “Gonna fix it tomorrow… maybe see about the roof, too. The whole house looks pretty bad, to be honest,” he muttered, taking a sip. “Rick’s alright, though.”  
“I told you,” Carol nodded.

“What happened to ‘im?” Daryl asked after a moment, frowning when Carol’s smile disappeared.  
“He’s been through a lot, Daryl.” She said seriously. “Got injured while on call. They put him on pension, because he couldn’t really work in the force anymore, not without his hand. He was a sheriff’s deputy, not sure if I told you?”  
“Figured.” Daryl nodded, remembering the sweatpants Rick had been wearing - the Police Academy logo looked pretty authentic, after all.  
“His wife left him,” Carol said quietly, then sighed. Daryl’s eyes snapped to her. “It wasn’t long after that bad call. They had a few fights, but I didn’t know that it was that bad…” she trailed off, bringing her own cup to her mouth and blowing on it.

Daryl watched her take a sip, his mind busy circling around the information. For some reason, hearing that Rick’s wife had left him after he had been injured rubbed Daryl in the wrong way. He had his own share of caring about an injured person, and his brother had been a literal pain in the ass most often than not. But Daryl had never even thought about leaving him like that. Of course, Merle had solved that particular problem himself when he had let himself get caught by the police… but for a few years before that, Daryl had been living with him, helping his asshole bro in every way he could. Even if it had mostly involved bringing him girls and opening another beer.

He shook his head to clear it, then looked at Carol.  
“Ya said the town didn’t like ‘im?” He said, but it sounded like a question. Rick didn’t strike him as a guy that people didn’t like… he looked the quiet type, mostly keeping to himself, sure, but to actually _dislike_ him?  
“I don’t know why… he’s a sweetheart. That officer I told you about? The one that helped me when Ed got out of jail the first time around?” She prompted, and Daryl nodded. _Yeah, he remembered the soft-spoken sheriff Carol had been talking about. A real angel it seemed._ “It was Rick,” she finished, shaking her head sadly.

_Well, shit._

“He needs help Daryl,” Carol said softly, her eyes full of that motherly concern she sometimes bestowed upon him. It was weird to see her do that when it came to another guy, but Daryl knew it meant that those two were good friends. And if Carol trusted Rick, if she _worried_ about him like that, then Daryl would do his best to help.

 

-&-

 

“Got the parts!” Daryl waved the bag in front of Rick’s face as soon as the door opened. It was nine o’clock, the sun was high in the sky, and Rick’s eyes had no right to be red-rimmed and puffy. Daryl squinted at him, lowering his hand.  
“Hi Daryl,” Rick rasped out. It sent a shiver through Daryl that he tried to ignore as he walked inside, directing his steps to the bathroom. The shower was still in pieces, left like that after he had dismantled it the day before. There were several small parts, a few screws and three broken tiles lying on the floor beside the plastic tray, and the mess he had made with his boots was still there. For a moment, Daryl felt bad for leaving it all like this, but then his mind focused on something else - it looked like Rick hadn’t even made an attempt at cleaning up. Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Daryl shrugged off his backpack and took his tools out. With a solemn promise to himself about cleaning up afterwards this time, he set to work.

It was about an hour later when Daryl heard footsteps behind him. He ignored them, trying to unsuccessfully join two pipes together, muttering quiet curses at the way they were angled.  
“How is it going?” Rick voice asked, and Daryl threw a glance over his shoulder.

Rick was standing in the doorway, a steaming mug in hands, looking mildly intrigued. Daryl stomped down his urge to snort seeing him - who the hell drank hot liquids in the middle of Georgia summer? The air was stifling enough as it was.  
“Slowly,” he gruffed out, turning back to the pipes, wiping sweat he could feel beading on his forehead. _Whoever the previous plumber was, he was a right asshole to leave it like that._ Rick fell quiet behind him, and Daryl frowned, straightening up, then turning around. He sat on his heels, knees still planted firmly on the floor, then gazed at Rick.

“Whoever did that was an idiot,” Daryl muttered, pointing with his thumb at the place where the drain used to be. Rick raised one eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, so Daryl went on. “The pipes were connected in a wrong way. Almost as if someone jammed them together and prayed they would hold,” he explained, gesticulating with his hands. Rick looked interested enough, so he continued, Carol’s words still fresh at the back of his mind.

“That caused unnecessary strain, see? Like this,” Daryl grabbed a length of pipe he had bought earlier that day, then brought it close to the drain, showing Rick the angle it had been at. Rick nodded, frowning.  
“Is there a way to do it properly?” He asked, eyes flicking between Daryl’s face and his hands.  
“Sure there is. Gotta tinker with the wall a bit, tho. There’s not enough space to lift the pipe like it should be… Gonna take a bit longer,” Daryl explained, shrugging. Rick shook his head.  
“It’s alright. I don’t mind,” he said, voice low. It reminded Daryl about how Carol had been back when Ed had still been alive.

“Want some tea or coffee?” Rick asked after a few beats of silence. This time, Daryl let himself snort.  
“Got something cooler?”  
“Beer?” Rick asked, and Daryl nodded in agreement. It was only after Rick walked out to fetch it that Daryl winced. Getting a beer from a possible alcoholic wasn’t something he should be doing. Quickly regretting his decision, thinking back to all those empty bottles that were littering the living room, Daryl was ready to call it off, when Rick appeared again.

“Here,” he murmured, holding out a bottle of Bud Light for Daryl to take. Seeing Daryl’s hesitation, Rick frowned, then looked down. “Sorry, that’s the only one I have… Haven’t been drinking that much lately,” he said, looking almost apologetic.

Daryl slowly let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He reached for the beer with a nod.  
“‘S fine. Thanks.” He took the bottle, grabbed a screwdriver and jammed it under the cap to open it. It took two tries, but it popped off finally. He glanced back at Rick who was just standing there, staring at him.  
“What?” Daryl asked, taking a sip.  
“It’s a twist-off,” Rick said, raising an eyebrow.  
“Yeah. Don’t want my hands shredded,” Daryl shrugged, thinking about the sharp edges of the cap.

Something in Rick’s features flickered, his eyes got a bit darker and, in a blink of an eye, his whole posture changed. It looked… _broken_ somehow, as if Daryl had just hit him with his fist. Rick stood there for a moment, staring into nothing, before he turned around and dragged himself away from the bathroom, feet almost shuffling on the floor, leaving a very stunned Daryl gazing after him.

 

-&-

 

Four hours and about a hundred creative curses later, Daryl was getting up from his knees. He stretched, wincing when his spine popped in a few places, then looked around. He had hammered away the better part of the floor underneath the shower, making just enough space to move the pipe a bit. It had taken some tinkering - and three wooden chocks - but he had managed to lift the pipe up a bit and steer it to the side. It should all work well like this. He had even mixed some mortar and packed it around the pipe, leaving it to set. Now, he had about two-three hours to kill, and the first thing he wanted to do, was grab a smoke.

Turning around, Daryl grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his winged vest - he had taken it off halfway through his work, it was just too fucking hot inside - and walked out, rubbing his hands over his t-shirt in an attempt to clean them a bit.

He peeked into the living room, wanting to give Rick an update, but the man wasn’t there. Frowning, Daryl walked back, down the corridor, passing the bathroom on his way. The layout of the house made it so that if he wanted to get to the kitchen, he had to walk next to a set of closed doors that Daryl thought would be bedrooms. The corridor had a turn at the end, and Daryl rounded the corner, wondering where the hell Rick was. He would probably be smoking right now if he hadn’t been so stubborn as to keeping the guy updated.

Daryl stuck his head into the kitchen, but it was empty, too. Frowning, ready to just walk to the front of the house and have his much deserved smoke, Daryl turned around. He paused, spotting a door opened just a crack, blue sky and green grass peeking at him from behind. He walked to it, pushing it slowly, revealing a spacious and completely overgrown backyard.  
“Something wrong?” Rick’s voice asked next to him and Daryl almost jumped, whipping his head to the side, spotting Rick sitting on a chair just outside. There was a small porch and Daryl stepped on it, scowling at the host.  
“Ya almost gave me a heart attack, man,” he gruffed, narrowing his eyes. Rick’s eyes widened, in turn.  
“I’m sorry. I just…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Is there something wrong with the shower, or are you just having a break?” Rick asked, eyeing him. Daryl shrugged, then showed him the pack.  
“You mind if I grab a smoke?” He asked, mindful that not everyone liked that. Rick just shrugged.  
“Go ahead.”

They stayed silent for a few long minutes - Rick sitting there quietly, Daryl taking in the overgrown garden in front of him. It was clear that it had been a beautiful thing a year or so ago. Now though, it looked neglected and untidy - huge bushes on both sides, robust enough to swallow up the fence behind them. The grass was growing wild in some places, knee-high and vivid green, while it was almost yellow in others, pale and sick-looking. There were a few trees there, but they were so unkempt that Daryl had troubles guessing whether they were fruit or ornamental. Both, probably.  
“Don’t you have ‘coons in ‘ere?” He asked, taking a lungful of smoke. He was genuinely surprised that anyone could make such a jungle in their own backyard. Usually, when he was called to a pending repair, the houses were more or less taken care of, with freshly mowed lawns and meticulously planted flowers.

It wasn’t that Rick’s little private forest was a bad thing, it was just surprising. He looked at the man curiously, and Rick shrugged, looking down at a mug he was holding.  
“To be honest, I don’t know,” he muttered quietly, taking a sip. His right arm, still bandaged and all, was resting on his lap, and Daryl let his gaze stop on it for a moment. He knew that Rick had lost it while on call, but that had been a year ago or so, according to Carol. Daryl couldn’t help but wonder why the stump was still bandaged.

“I can’t really do much around here anymore,” Rick said quietly, jerking his injured arm up with a wince. Daryl frowned.  
“Ya still can do a lot,” he opposed, waving his hand around. “Could probably mow the lawn,” he prompted, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. Rick shrugged.  
“Maybe…”  
“Nah, for real. And I can help ya with the rest.” Daryl glanced at him. “If ya wanna.”

Rick sat quietly for a long moment, looking down at the ground. He looked as if he was mulling something over in his head, biting his lip, before he spoke up hesitantly.  
“How much?” His voice was soft, sounding somehow resigned. Something inside Daryl squeezed and shifted.  
“Consider it a friendly hand,” he gruffed out. Rick shook his head vehemently, looking up at him, his eyes getting a bit darker.  
“I’ve got money,” he stated, sounding almost offended.  
“I know.” Daryl puffed out a cloud of smoke. _Got friends, too?_ \- Daryl wanted to ask. He bit his tongue and kept on smoking, instead.

“Want another beer?” Rick asked, getting up. Daryl shrugged, then nodded. Rick went into the house, only to come back after a minute, carrying two bottles. Daryl took them and, having left his screwdriver in the bathroom, used the edge of his lighter to open both of them. Rick took one, then waved the bottle at another chair standing nearby, inviting Daryl to use it.

“How’s the shower coming along?” Rick inquired after a hearty gulp.  
“‘S gonna be fine. Once the mortar sets ‘m gonna put it back together,” Daryl assured, taking out another cigarette and lighting it.  
“Gardens, showers… what else can you do?” Rick asked, sounding curious. Daryl smirked, deciding to humor him.  
“Can probably repair yer roof,” he said casually. “‘S leakin’, right?”  
“Yeah,” Rick nodded.  
“Can fix it. Reckon we do that before starting on with the garden, tho,” Daryl proposed.

Rick agreed, although reluctantly. There was something uneasy about him, but in spite of that something, they still fell into an easy conversation about Daryl’s hobbies. His personal life wasn’t something he liked to share with everyone around, but Daryl had a feeling that Rick might need it. Maybe he could find something he could do without his hand and still enjoy it?  
“This garden is huge, man,” Daryl said finally, looking at the jungle in front of him. Rick shrugged, gazing down sadly again.  
“It used to be beautiful. I spent every weekend here, growing roses and strawberries… There was a small stream, over there.” Rick pointed with his left hand, still holding the bottle. Daryl’s gaze wandered to the left corner of the garden, taking in tall, pink wildflowers that had overtaken the place. “Carl liked to sit there and fish. He never caught anything, but he liked to sit there anyway…” Rick mused, and Daryl could swear his eyes turned a bit glassy.

“Carl?” Daryl asked instead, curious.  
“My son. He’s living with Lori and Shane…” The name _Shane_ left Rick’s lips like a curse. Daryl frowned, but thought better of continuing the topic. Not when Rick’s grip on the neck of the bottle turned white-knuckled.  
“Ya can still do stuff in ‘ere, Rick,” he said instead, taking one last gulp from his beer. “Ya could plant flowers and cut branches…”  
“With this?” Rick asked bitterly, raising his stump in the air. “How the hell am I supposed to plant with one hand?”  
“Slowly,” Daryl said simply, shrugging. “My brother lost his hand…” Daryl said, hesitantly, eyeing Rick.

Rick’s eyes opened wide and his lips parted in surprise.  
“Yeah,” Daryl went on. “His right one, too.”  
“I’m sorry,” Rick said, averting his gaze. Daryl shrugged again.  
“‘S okay. Fucker deserved it, really.” That tore a shocked gasp out of Rick. Daryl shook his head.  
“He was doing drugs. A deal went wrong, he came out one hand short. He’s been a real pain in the ass ever since…”  
“Do you live with him?” Rick asked, curious.  
“Nah. He’s in jail. He went back to dealing right after he had convinced himself that he could fuck three girls at the same time…” Daryl winced, remembering the night. Finding a whore that was ready to take on his idiot brother was an achievement, but finding three at the same time? Fucking gymnastics at the Olympic Games.

“The point is,” Daryl continued, “If mah idiot, loudmouth brother can fuck three girls while high on coke, you can cut a few bushes, Rick,” he mumbled, taking out another cigarette. Rick was silent next to him, looking at the garden with melancholy in his eyes.  
“Your brother sounds like a handful,” Rick said finally, voice a low murmur.  
“Mah pa was a right bastard. Drinking every night and day…” Daryl cringed, inhaling the smoke, welcoming the burn. There was something in Rick that made the confession easy, though for the life of him Daryl didn’t know what. “Merle took after him, I guess.” He glanced at Rick, noticing how Rick’s eyes were for once clear, boring into him, before he turned his gaze back to the garden.

They changed the topic after that, talked about cars and bikes. It turned out that Rick liked bikes, but had never managed to buy one. Smirking, thinking what the hell was he even doing, Daryl proposed that he would give him a ride on his own, as soon as the bike was finished.  
“You’re putting a bike together yourself?” To say that Rick was surprised was an understatement.  
“Yep,” Daryl confirmed. “The one ’m riding is a piece of shit, but I have a better one tha’s almost finished.” Rick whistled, hearing that.  
“Jack of all trades, aren’t you?”

And then Rick smiled. It was small and tentative, almost rigid, as if he had forgotten how to do it. Something very warm bloomed in Daryl’s chest and stayed with him till the end of the day, heating up his cheeks when he went to finish putting the shower together again.

 

-&-

 

They had made plans that involved Daryl repairing Rick’s roof - that’s why, two days later, Daryl was at Rick’s door, again, knocking shortly at nine o’clock sharp. The Rick that answered  looked a bit different than what Daryl remembered, so he took off his sunglasses to eye him curiously.

Rick’s wild beard was trimmed, looking a lot more silver than when it had been longer. It created a very interesting contrast with his still mostly-brown, short hair. He was wearing the same set of sweats, but the t-shirt was different, for once a good size for the man.  
“Cleaning up?” Daryl asked, smirking, inclining his head at him. Rick looked down, one hand shooting to his jaw and scratching through the beard thoughtfully.  
“Yeah… a bit,” he nodded, then stepped back to let Daryl in.

If Daryl thought that only Rick had changed, he was sorely mistaken. The whole house had gone through some kind of metamorphosis, even if it was too subtle to see it at the first glance. As Daryl walked in, he was hit with the fresh scent of a well-aired place. He looked around curiously, noticing that the windows were open for once, letting in the morning breeze and making the curtains move delicately. Rick took him to the living room, proposing to leave most of his stuff in there. Daryl agreed, not wanting his phone to get in the line - he had a bad habit of dropping it from time to time, and he figured that working on the roof would be a death sentence to the poor device.

That’s when Daryl was surprised for the third time that morning - the whole living room was cleaned up. There were no bottles lying around, the floor had been vacuumed, and there was even a not-entirely-dead potted plant on the table. He glanced at Rick, but only caught his retreating back. Frowning, Daryl left his backpack on the couch and went after the man, following him to the kitchen. On his way there, Daryl noticed the fourth surprise - the framed photos hanging in the corridor had been dusted off, too. He looked at one of them, recognizing Rick’s smiling face.

On the photograph, Rick looked a lot younger. He had long, curly hair, was wearing a sheriff’s uniform and hugging a young kid tightly. Daryl’s frown only deepened and he swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away. _Must have been Rick’s son, Carl._  
“Do you want some coffee before you start?” Rick called from the kitchen, and Daryl reluctantly walked into it.  
“Yeah,” he nodded to nobody in particular, looking around, then spotting Rick next to a coffee machine.

Rick was fiddling with something, frowning and biting his lip as his left hand slipped on one of the metal parts. Daryl had to stomp down the urge to offer help - _Rick had this._ Besides he couldn’t help but admire the man for the way he could come up with new ideas to hold things and do everything one-handed.  
“Want some milk?” Rick asked after a moment, turning around and glancing at Daryl expectantly.  
“Nah, take it black, thanks,” he answered, shaking his head. Rick shrugged, then walked to the fridge.  
“I used to. Then my stomach decided to rebel and now it can’t really stand it without,” Rick gave a small chuckle, but Daryl could hear it was completely mirthless.

He stood there, watching how Rick retrieved a bottle of milk, then set it on the counter. He tried to open it with just the fingers of his left hand, but it was a new bottle, and the seal was still intact. Huffing, he tried to hold it with his right forearm, but it slipped. The seal gave only after Rick took the bottle, held it with his knees and forced it into obedience.  
“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, averting his gaze. “I’m not that good at it.” Daryl’s mouth fell open, before he snapped it closed again.  
“Doin’ good, if ya ask me,” he said, shaking his head.

_Whoever had made Rick so insecure better pray they never met._

“Thanks,” Daryl said, taking a mug of coffee Rick offered just two minutes later. He blew on it, then took a tentative sip, his eyes rolling slightly. _Jesus, that shit was good._  
“So what’s on the agenda today?” Rick asked, bringing his own mug up.  
“Gonna check the left side, cause it looks the worst. Then maybe the right…” Daryl thought aloud, seeing Rick nod along.  
“The worst leak is on the left side, yeah…”  
“Alright. Lemme get to it, then,” Daryl conceded, turning around and walking out of the kitchen.

 

-&-

 

He had been working for three hours, before he heard Rick again. Finding the leak had been easy - a big stain on the ceiling of one bedroom was a dead giveaway. Repairing it, though… Daryl cursed profusely, seeing a mess of fucked up rooftop tiles and insulation, wet and misshaped wood sticking out here and there. He scratched his head, then straightened out. Like this, standing on the roof in direct sunlight, he felt a lot hotter than while working on the shower. Thinking about making a good decision of not wearing his vest today, Daryl wiped the sweat off of his forehead, tied his hair up in a messy bun, and went back to work, tearing the tiles off. Just as he was ready to throw the last of them to the ground, Rick’s voice reached him.

“Hey Daryl!” Rick shouted at him from somewhere underneath, and Daryl peeked his head over the edge of the roof, glancing down. Rick was standing on the driveway, his left hand shading his eyes as he stared up.  
“Whassup?”  
“It’s noon… I’ve been thinking about ordering a pizza for dinner…” Rick said, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was proposing it or not. Daryl’s mind went back to the way Rick’s whole house had been gloomy and cold just a few days before, to the way his living room had been cluttered and dusty. It was an easy guess that Rick didn’t have a lot of guests, whether friends or neighbors. Choosing to take the risk, Daryl let himself be bold.

“No pineapple for me!” He shouted back. There was something heartbreaking in the way Rick nodded, then looked down with a shy smile, as he wandered back inside and out of Daryl’s sight.

Cursing under his breath, Daryl threw the last tile down.

 

-&-

 

Later in the evening, when Daryl was back in his trailer, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from circling back to Rick. It was painfully obvious that not only his house was in dire need of help, but the man in question, too. For some reason, Daryl felt the need to be the one to save him. He wasn’t even sure _why._

Rick had been a police officer before - Daryl had seen it with his own two eyes, looking at Rick’s old photo… It was surprising then that he felt such a strong pull towards the man. Daryl _hated_ cops. But… Rick wasn’t one anymore, right? Whatever had happened while he _had_ been in the force, had probably made Rick hate it as much as Daryl did.

He cringed, thinking about it. Rick’s injury had been serious enough to put him on a permanent sick leave, and since he was living on a pension, he didn’t really have to go out anymore. Sometimes, sitting around with nothing to do was a lot worse than trying to overcome the disability. Daryl knew something about it - his brother was one lazy asshole, and he had only gotten worse when he had been permanently installed inside their trailer and getting bored out of his thick skull.

Shaking his head to clear it of Merle, Daryl dragged himself to the little shower he had inside his trailer. He would be back at Rick’s place tomorrow, and just that was enough to make him want to scrub himself clean. He had never been one to fuss over the lack of hygiene - spending the better part of one’s childhood in the woods had an interesting influence on one’s adulthood - but he reckoned that Rick would appreciate it.

That thought made Daryl pause. _Why was he so interested in Rick’s opinion about him, suddenly? It wasn’t like the guy was interested in him… he was just lonely, for fuck’s sake!_

Frowning, Daryl stepped into the shower and turned the water on, letting it slosh down his shoulders. It was lukewarm, but after such a hot day, Daryl couldn’t complain. Certainly not, when his mind went back to the way Rick had looked that day, with his freshly-trimmed beard and soft lips, his blue eyes staring at Daryl until he had caught them a few times over a slice of pizza. Remembering one particular moment, marked by Rick’s tentative smile at something Daryl had said, he could feel himself getting hard.

_There was just something in Rick’s tiny smiles that made Daryl feel all warm and tingly._

Feeling that it was a bad move, not being able to stop himself if he tried, Daryl closed his eyes and brought his hand to his half-hard dick. Giving himself a squeeze, trying not to think too hard about what Rick would do if he learned that Daryl was gay, he let his imagination run wild.

 

-&-

 

Back in his house, Rick was sitting on his couch again. He glanced at the remnants of the pizza still taking up the better part of his table, thinking about clearing them up. He knew he should - keeping food outside the fridge was asking for trouble with rodents, and god only knew what the hell was living just underneath his fucked-up roof. For some reason, though, thinking about cleaning up and getting rid of the evidence that Daryl had been here sounded wrong in Rick’s head. He started to really consider leaving the remains of the pizza where they were, thinking how Lori would have a fit is she knew about this, then paused.

Lori was not there. She hadn’t _been there_ for a long time… Daryl, on the other hand…

Rick frowned, thinking about the repairman. He was a mystery to Rick, mostly as to _why would he even care?_ It wasn’t like Rick was a bucket of fun to sit with… not anymore, in any case. People in their town didn’t really like him, and he was aware of that. But Daryl… Daryl seemed genuinely interested in becoming Rick’s _friend._ It was too weird to even think about it. Didn’t he have other friends? Rick knew that Daryl had a brother, sitting somewhere in the county’s jail, rotting in there for dealing drugs… But someone as kind as Daryl, someone so handy and easy-going, should have a bunch of friends around him, right? Then what was he doing here, trying to get closer to Rick. Couldn’t he see just how _damaged_ Rick was?

Shaking his head, deciding to deal with it in the morning, Rick left the pizza box, the plates and the glasses exactly where they were, and dragged himself to the shower. He had a feeling that the warmth that encompassed him ten minutes later had little to do with the water falling on him, and everything to do with the fact that Daryl had repaired that shower earlier…

 

-&-

 

On the next morning, Daryl was half an hour late. It was only partly his fault - he had stopped in a little cafe on his way there, wanting to surprise Rick with some breakfast. He had gotten out of his own trailer a solid hour earlier than usual, thinking it would have been enough to carry out his plan. What he hadn’t taken into consideration, however, had been the traffic, dense enough to stop his bike on the highway for a better part of that extra hour.

And now he was here, ringing the bell for the second time, shuffling on his feet. He hoped Rick wouldn’t be mad at him for being half an hour late, it wasn’t a long time after all… and their working arrangement was more of a friendly one, anyway. Besides, he had a bag full of freshly-baked donuts in hand - people couldn’t be mad at someone handing them donuts, right?

When the door finally opened, Daryl had to stifle his surprised gasp. Rick wasn’t angry, not in the least. With his red-rimmed eyes and his lips rosy - probably from biting them - he looked so sad, Daryl almost asked what was wrong. But when Rick opened his mouth and spoke, Daryl’s heart squeezed hard enough that he thought he was going to have a stroke.  
“I thought you forgot…” Rick mumbled so quietly, Daryl almost kicked himself. He should have texted or called him, let him know that he was going to be held up a bit.

Shaking his head, not able to tear his eyes from Rick, Daryl raised his arm, showing him the bag.  
“Went for those, got into a traffic jam,” he explained, hoping it would stop Rick looking so devastated. The man looked close to tears again, especially after he winced slightly. Daryl cursed in his mind and walked inside once Rick stepped backwards to let him in.

They ended up in Rick’s kitchen, drinking coffee and sharing donuts, chasing each other’s glances every now and then. It was different than the previous night, though, Rick seemed to be more depressed. Daryl couldn’t shake the feeling that he looked almost _surprised_ every time he raised his eyes and saw Daryl still sitting there, before he went back to that sadness that was positively radiating from him. Thinking about the roof he had to get back to soon, Daryl tried to come up with an idea that would keep Rick occupied. Maybe show him that he was still good at _something…_

Daryl looked through the window, noticing a few heavier clouds looming on the sky.  
“The weather changed,” he muttered, taking a sip, before he bit into another donut. It seemed like Rick was waiting for him to do it, so he could get another one out of the bag, too.  
“Yeah, it got cooler.” Rick nodded, licking the glaze from his bottom lip. Daryl tried very hard not to follow that tongue. He failed. Biting the inside of his cheek to stop some ridiculous shit from spewing out of his mouth, Daryl continued, turning his gaze to the window.  
“‘S nice for garden work…” he prodded carefully, mentally crossing his fingers for Rick to agree.

The man fell silent, however, drinking his coffee and eating the donut. He stood up once he was finished, putting his mug in the sink.  
“Call me if you need anything,” Rick said, before walking out. Daryl stared after him, frowning. He had to come up with something that would help Rick - it was almost a physical need by now. Deciding to think about it while working on the roof, Daryl finished his own coffee and headed for the ladder, but not before he washed both of the mugs and left them to dry on a cloth lying nearby.

 

-&-

 

Rick was sitting down on his bed, listening to Daryl walking on the roof right above him, biting his lip when he heard a rather loud curse. What Daryl had proposed… Rick wasn’t stupid. He knew that Daryl had tried to get him out of the house, make him do something… Maybe feel _useful_ again. But Rick couldn’t do it. His hand was _missing,_ cut off on a call gone bad, and even now, over a year after that, Rick still couldn’t really handle any tools.

And it wasn’t even that he hadn’t tried - he had. Back in the day, when Lori had still been living here, he had tried so goddamn _hard._ He had wanted to make it work, he had needed to make it work… But Lori had declared him a hopeless case, had taken the kids and run off with _Shane…_

Rick gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He could feel a few frustrated tears gathering, clouding his vision, and he wiped them away angrily. What Daryl was trying to do was to fix him… He was a repairman, after all. A repairman he barely knew, a repairman who had brought him donuts for breakfast, as if he had known that Rick wouldn’t eat anything otherwise.

Another curse rang above him, and Rick shook his head, wiping at his face once more. He glanced down at his arm… at the _stump,_ cringing even though it was wrapped in a bandage. _He wrapped it still… he couldn’t help it. The sight was just too much to bear sometimes._

Maybe Daryl was right? Maybe Rick needed to be fixed? Maybe _Daryl_ was the only one who could? Rick certainly didn’t have anyone else around that would even try to do it… True, he had a few neighbors, but Carol had had enough shit in her life as it was, she didn’t need his own baggage, too. And Jessie… Jessie had a very abusive asshole of a husband, and she couldn’t even help _herself,_ much less worry about Rick.

Maybe Daryl was the answer, then?

Gritting his teeth and adjusting his bandage, Rick stood up and walked out silently, intent on giving it a try. If Daryl wanted to fix him, he would at least fucking _try._

 

-&-

 

Cursing like a sailor, Daryl shoved his chisel between the rooftop tiles, feeling a mild satisfaction when they broke off and fell down. They were all screwed up, moldy and cracked, rotten enough that he didn’t even have to use his hammer this time. The work went quickly, the rhythmic push-break-fall serving as a great background to Daryl’s Rick-centered thinking.

Daryl was pretty sure that Rick had been crying in the morning. Going by the way he continued to look surprised every time he had looked at Daryl over the breakfast, Daryl could hazard a very good guess as to the cause of Rick’s bad mood. _Of course Rick would have thought that he had forgotten about their meeting._ Daryl bristled at the thought - he was a man of his word, after all - but he couldn’t say that he blamed Rick for that. The guy didn’t really have a lot of people around him, and from what Daryl had gathered already, the people in Rick’s life he would normally trust had already left him.

Jamming the chisel a bit more angrily than he should, Daryl watched a tile break off and skitter away, before it disappeared behind the edge of the roof.  
“Fuck.” He put his tools down and leaned over the edge, hoping it didn’t break anything - god knew how many times Daryl had to re-park people’s cars while he was working on their rooftops.

Thankfully, the broken-off tile hadn’t caused any damage, apart from getting stuck in the dirt just short of a narrow path going around the house. Daryl doubted that would be a problem, especially seeing how the trail was almost completely taken over by wildly growing grass. He was ready to get back to his chisel again, when his eyes caught movement in Rick’s garden. Frowning, Daryl shuffled to the side, still crouching low, then peeked from behind the chimney. He smiled, seeing a set of white t-shirt and dark jeans moving through the bushes.

_Rick._

Daryl would have called out to him, made some kind of a joke to show Rick his approval, but he knew well just how easy it was to hurt that man. He was more fragile than anyone Daryl had ever met, even if he didn’t appear so. Sure, when poked, intentionally or not, Rick wouldn’t shatter apart in tears… but the way he would grit his teeth and cast his gaze down told Daryl just how much this man was hurting inside. Not wanting to screw up what looked like Rick’s first day out in a long while, Daryl let him be, returning to the tiles.

 

-&-

 

It was only three hours later when Daryl talked to him again. He had been sneaking glances at Rick for the better part of his working time, feeling a strange pang whenever Rick’s left hand slipped and a tool landed on the ground. Daryl had even seen him walking away a few times, but when he had glanced that way again a few minutes later, Rick had been back at it, a determined expression becoming more and more prominent on his handsome face.

And now they were here, in Rick’s touched-up, private forest, enjoying a short break. Daryl let his gaze slip over every place where the man had done something - a neatly trimmed bush of roses, a small weeded patch near the path, and some seriously shortened grass in their closest proximity.  
“Good start,” Daryl praised, nodding with his head to indicate the little bit of the cleared lawn. Rick shrugged.  
“I would have done more… but it’s… _slow,”_ he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee. Daryl frowned, eyes still directed at the garden.  
“Still a progress,” he prompted. He heard Rick’s chuckle next to him, but it didn’t feel a bit humorous.  
“At this rate it’ll be Christmas before I get to the fence.”

That little remark sparked something inside Daryl. Maybe Rick didn’t see it yet, but he was talking about clearing up the whole garden. It was a _big_ garden… And Rick didn’t think about going back home and curling up on his couch, he thought about _working…_ Daryl’s lips quirked up and he looked to the side.  
“What?” Rick asked, eyeing him wearily.  
“The offer still stands,” Daryl said, shrugging, but he didn’t bother to fight the smile that was still on his face. “Can help ya,” he went on, when Rick just sat there, blinking at him.  
“Isn’t the roof more important?” Rick asked, confused.

 _You are more important,_ Daryl thought, then bit his cheek not to say it aloud.

“Got the worst of the leaks… the rest can wait,” Daryl shrugged, silently hoping Rick would agree.  
“I… yeah. Yeah, alright,” Rick murmured, looking down at his boots. Why he was set on wearing cowboy boots to his garden, Daryl didn’t know, but he had to admit that they made Rick look somehow old-school. All that was missing was a cowboy hat, to be honest. And a revolver at his hip.  
“Finish the coffee, I’ll grab a smoke, and we’ll be good to start,” Daryl nodded at him, reaching to his pocket to retrieve his pack.  
“You think…” Rick started hesitatingly, eyeing a huge cluster of wildly growing bushes and some tall, ornamental grass. “You think we can clear this part out?”  
“Why this one?” Daryl asked, genuinely curious. Rick shrugged.  
“There was a fountain in there... somewhere… it’s connected to that stream on the left… think we can cut through to it?” He asked. Daryl grinned.  
“Hell yeah!”

 

-&-

 

Together, they worked well into the afternoon, doing their best to clean up the area. Once they had actually cut through enough branches, Daryl had to do a double-take, seeing the moss-covered statue. It was a figure of a young horse… a colt really, standing on all of its four legs, bowing its head down low to reach a bucket. The whole statue had been made from some kind of metal, and it was completely black by now, overgrown by moss and algae at the top. Daryl couldn’t really believe the detail it had, even after all that time - the colt looked as if it was barely holding itself upright, almost as if the artist making it had captured its first steps.

“The water should be coming out here,” Rick said, pointing at something between wild branches, and Daryl squinted his eyes. There, between leaves, something that looked like a pump could be seen.  
“It flew to the bucket, right?” Daryl asked, eyeing the set-up. Rick nodded.  
“Yeah, then it was supposed to recirculate back up, but we tweaked it a bit, so that it flew out and formed the creak.” Rick dug the tip of his boot into the ground a few inches from the fountain. The movement upturned a small rock and revealed a plastic sheet underneath.  
“Clever.” Daryl nodded at him, going back to looking at the horse. “Why a colt?”  
“Oh…” Rick scratched his forehead. “It was a joke…”

When Daryl remained silent, Rick went on, prompted into talking. “My friend bought it for my housewarming party. We were in the force already, and I had my favorite gun. It’s a Colt, so he thought that it would be a nice pun to get me another _colt.”_ With every word that left Rick’s mouth, he seemed to get a bit quieter, a bit sadder… Daryl frowned.  
“Ya still have that gun?”  
“Yeah. In my drawer. An officer never parts with his firearm…” Rick murmured quietly. “It’s a shame it’s mostly useless now, though.”

Daryl glanced at the statue, then back at Rick. _Two useless colts, huh?_

“We can fix it,” he proposed carefully, making Rick’s eyes snap to his. “We clean it, then I’ll check if the pipes are okay. It should work,” Daryl explained, nodding at the fountain. “‘S too beautiful to throw it away.”

Rick reluctantly nodded at that, eyeing the colt. Then he shrugged and went back to cutting the branches, this time around the pump. Daryl bit his lip and got to work, too.

He tried not to think how much that statue reminded him of Rick, taking trembling, unsure steps forward.

 

-&-

 

By the time they called it a day, it was already dark outside. Walking into the house, Daryl winced when he spotted his shoes leaving muddy prints on the floor. He bowed down to take them off, then looked at his hands. _Jesus, how dirty can you get cutting branches?_  
“Hey, Rick,” he called, knowing Rick had wandered into the kitchen.  
“Yeah?”  
“Can I use yer shower?”  
“Uh… sure!” Rick shouted back.  
“Ya got a spare towel?” Daryl asked, walking to the bathroom. He heard Rick say something that sounded like _give me a moment,_ so he waited inside, looking at the shower he had repaired a few days before. It wasn’t like he would mind using Rick’s towel - _quite the opposite in fact._ But, Daryl had a feeling that he had to thread carefully with Rick.

“Here,” Rick appeared behind him a few moments later, handing him what must have been the fluffiest towel in the whole state. Daryl took it gingerly, then nodded at the shower.  
“How’s it working? Any leaks?”  
“Oh, no,” Rick shook his head. “It’s all good. You did a great job on it.” Rick’s eyes were so serious when he said it that Daryl felt instantly warm.  
“Well… like I said, the previous guy was an idiot,” he mumbled, shrugging.  
“Yeah, no arguing that.” Rick nodded. Then he sighed. “I guess I had bad taste for friends.”  
“Jeez…” Daryl chuckled. “Leaving ya with a disaster waitin’ to happen… Hope yer not friends with ‘im anymore.”  
“Would be hard after he fucked my wife,” Rick mumbled, then ducked his head.

_What the… ?_

Daryl stood there, opening and closing his mouth, letting the words sink in. Rick glanced at him, just a brief meeting of their eyes, before he turned around.  
“I’m gonna order that pizza,” he said and walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

It took Daryl five minutes to finally move.

 

-&-

 

The pizza was good, and the beer was even better. They had polished three cans each, and were just starting on their fourth, sitting side to side on Rick’s couch, when the topic of their conversation reached the point where Daryl felt that bending it just a bit wouldn’t be too bad. That, and Rick was _a bit drunk._  
“So, he got himself arrested again,” Daryl shrugged, answering a question about his brother. Rick nodded, taking a sip from his freshly opened can.  
“For five years this time,” Rick mused aloud.  
“Yeah… what ‘bout ya?” Daryl asked, tilting his head, glancing at Rick’s stump.  
“What about me?”  
“Mhm… how did _ya_ lose it?”

Rick’s whole face changed suddenly - something dark and sad flickering across his features. Daryl almost backpedaled, mind going back to all the times Rick looked at his disfigured forearm with haunted eyes.  
“A year ago,” Rick started, clearing his throat when he noticed that his voice came out croaky. “It was about a year ago… we… Shane and I got a call. Burglary…” He glanced at Daryl, then drew his gaze away. It landed on the floor, and Rick looked as if he was concentrating hard to put every word together.

“It was supposed to be easy. It wasn’t. The guys inside surprised us… They knocked me out. When I woke up later I was in a basement…” Rick’s voice gained a strange cadence, something that made it sound almost mechanical. Daryl shivered hearing it. “Shane wasn’t there. Nobody was there. Nobody but _them.”_ Rick shook his head minutely, still staring at the floor. “They had me chained to one of the beams under the ceiling… Beat me up some. I think… I think they cracked a rib or two…”

It was clear that every word was becoming harder and harder to get out, and Daryl started to regret his decision. His curiosity wasn’t worth pulling Rick through whatever nightmare he had lived once again. Realizing his mistake, Daryl was already opening his mouth to tell him that it was okay, _that he didn’t have to tell him everything,_ but Rick went on and Daryl snapped his mouth shut. Rick leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and looking down at the floor.

“I don’t know how long I was there, but their boss finally came in. He…” Rick took a deep breath, then exhaled, slow and calm, closing his eyes for a moment. “He wanted to know something about us working on a drug dealing case at that time. But… it wasn’t my department, so I didn’t know shit.” Rick scoffed, then sipped from his beer, swallowing hard.

“Ya don’t need to tell me,” Daryl said finally, reaching out and placing his hand on Rick’s left forearm. He didn’t know why he had done it - maybe because he didn’t know what else to do. It was clear from Rick’s expression that whatever was going on in his head in that moment had been dark enough to suck him in completely had he let it.

Rick glanced at Daryl’s fingers still wrapped around his healthy arm, frowning.  
“Why are you here, Daryl?” He asked finally, biting his lip as if he tried hard not to say anything else. Daryl knew he didn’t mean _right now._ _  
_ “Ya needed help,” he said slowly, looking intently at Rick’s downcast eyes. “Ya needed help and yer a good guy who’s been dealt shitty cards.” _And I really wanna be friends with ya… maybe more._ Daryl wasn’t startled by his thoughts - far from it actually. Rick was a handsome man, and he was the kind of survivor Daryl could admire. He was in a rough spot, had been for a while, but he was trying hard to get out of it. More than anything, Daryl wanted to help him.

It took a moment, but finally Rick nodded, looking down at the floor again.  
“The Governor… the ah… the _boss._ He had a hand saw…” Rick trailed off, then shifted his gaze to his stump. Daryl didn’t really need him to finish that sentence - he had enough imagination to fill in the blanks.

 _What a fucking bastard. He better pray Daryl never meets him, or he will lose more than a hand. Two hands probably. Both of his legs, too._ _Maybe an eye if he puts up a fight…_

A quiet, sniffling sound tore Daryl out of his blood-colored mind. He frowned, looking at Rick, noticing him wiping his eyes with the - now dirty - bandage. Not thinking much, Daryl squeezed Rick’s arm with the hand that was still resting on it, then tugged him closer slowly, _carefully._ Rick went without a fight, leaning into Daryl until he was pressed against his chest, cradling his injured arm close to his stomach.  
“‘S okay, yer not there anymore. Ya got out, Rick,” Daryl murmured, trying to soothe him, hoping it would stop the uncontrollable quaking that had taken over Rick’s body.

A few minutes later he was still shaking, and Daryl couldn’t really help himself - he wrapped his arms around Rick, lowering his head and placing a small kiss on the top of Rick’s short hair. There was a sharp inhale, before Rick pulled away, gaze meeting Daryl’s.  
“Why are you here?” Rick whispered again, barely an inch away from Daryl’s face. His eyes were so blue, glassy and filled with so much pain, that all Daryl wanted was to chase it away.

Slowly, not to startle Rick, giving him plenty of time to back away if he wanted to, Daryl brought their lips together. The kiss was tentative, all soft lips and and a careful brush of noses, with Rick’s hand finding its spot on Daryl’s chest. He thought at first that Rick meant to push him away, but the fingers didn’t even press in - instead, they fisted themselves in Daryl’s t-shirt, holding on as Rick let himself be kissed.

Daryl wasn’t one to waste an occasion - he pressed himself closer, running his lips gently over Rick’s, reveling in how delicate they were. On a whim, he let his tongue join in, sliding it over the tender flesh, listening to the small gasp that escaped Rick.

Knowing that he was probably overdoing it, feeling it was way too soon anyway, Daryl finally pulled back a little, looking at Rick. The man had his eyes closed, his brow furrowed slightly in a small frown, and he licked his lips when they parted, almost as if he was chasing Daryl’s taste. Hoping he didn’t fuck anything up, Daryl leaned in again, giving Rick just a small peck, prompting him to open his beautiful eyes finally. They flickered up to meet his gaze, before Rick averted them again, a blush raising high on his cheeks.

“Why?” Rick asked quietly, and Daryl frowned.  
“‘Cause I like ya,” he clarified. “A lot.”

Rick looked as if he wanted to say something, already opening his mouth, but he decided against it and closed it again with a small nod. He straightened up and pulled away, sitting in his previous spot on the couch, his left hand coming up to rub against his face.  
“I’m _damaged,_ Daryl,” he mumbled finally, eyes still downcast.  
“So what?” Daryl asked, not really seeing Rick’s point. “I ain’t scared…” Daryl saw Rick close his eyes, so he grabbed his left arm again, squeezing gently. “Rick.” He prompted, waiting for Rick to look at him. “I _ain’t_ scared,” he repeated, wanting to hammer the point home.

Daryl didn’t even notice that his thumb had started to trace a mindless pattern on Rick’s skin, until Rick’s gaze shifted to it. Daryl could feel a slight tremor that ran through Rick’s body, so he let him go, sitting back and grabbing his beer again. He took a sip, watching Rick like a hawk.

“My wife left me,” Rick said, turning his head to stare forward with unseeing eyes. Daryl tried not to wince as he went on, almost like he was explaining himself. Daryl didn’t think it was necessary, but if Rick wanted to talk finally, he wouldn’t stop him.

“She thought I was useless like this, that I couldn’t take care of myself, not to mention our son…” Rick trailed off, swallowing convulsively. “She actually _told_ me that. One night… a month after… I tried, Daryl. I tried so damn _hard,_ but it wasn’t enough for her. I couldn’t do much… my arm hurt back then… It still _does_ sometimes. Phantom pain, or so the doctors said.”  
“That why ya wrap it?” Daryl asked. Since they were having a heart-to-heart, he figured it would be okay.  
“No.” There was a sigh leaving Rick, sad and heavy. “I can’t look at it. The scar is… _bad.”_ Rick’s eyes went down again, staring at the carpet. “Reminds me about what happened too much.”

“Got scars, too,” Daryl offered, biting his lip. “My pa liked to beat on us. Used his belt, a cable… whatever was handy. Opened my back more times ‘an I can count.” Daryl looked down at his beer bottle. Getting back to his memories wasn’t nice, but he had a feeling they had to play open cards here. Rick needed it, so Daryl was ready to share. “One night I thought he was gonna kill me. Merle wasn’t home, out with his buddies. Dad came home drunk, said he heard rumors on the street that his son is a faggot. Started to beat me… I don’t know when he stopped. Merle woke me up on the next day.”  
“Jesus…” Rick’s whisper was choked down with emotions, and Daryl jerked his head up. Rick’s eyes were boring into him, full of something Daryl couldn’t really decipher - he only knew that it made him feel warm, which was a surprise. He didn’t like people pitying him, normally, but Rick’s gaze wasn’t full of pity. It had this warm compassion buried underneath layers of his own hurt, and somehow, Daryl felt a bit lighter.

“How old were you?” Rick asked a bit hesitatingly.  
“Fourteen,” Daryl said, shrugging. “Wasn’t the first time he went batshit crazy on me. He had beaten Merle before that. A lot.”  
“I’m sorry,” Rick murmured, shaking his head a bit as if he tried to chase away bad thoughts.  
“‘S okay, he’s dead now. Fucker got off easy.”  
“The police couldn’t help?” Rick asked, frowning.  
“Nah. There were no good officers like ya back then.” Daryl watched how Rick’s expression changed to that of surprise. Daryl went on.

“Carol told me ya were t’ one to help her and Sophia when Ed got too heavy,” he explained. Rick’s eyes widened, before he looked down again.  
“It was a long time ago,” he muttered, taking a sip of his beer. Daryl shook his head.  
“Doesn’t matter. Ya were a good cop, and yer still a good guy,” he pressed. Rick shrugged, sipping from his bottle again, and Daryl had to squish his urge to take it away from his hand and kiss him senseless.

They finished their beers in silence, and Daryl was curious as to what would happen now. He wasn’t really keen on leaving Rick like this - after their confessions, Rick still looked too raw to be left alone for the night. Trying to come up with something that would lift Rick’s spirit up a bit, Daryl was surprised when it was Rick who spoke first.  
“You can stay the night if you want,” he proposed in a low voice.  
“Ya sure?” Daryl asked, mentally kicking himself. Yeah, he _wanted_ to.  
“We were drinking and you shouldn’t be driving like this,” Rick muttered, shrugging. “Besides, I have an extra bedroom.”  
“Thanks,” Daryl said, nodding.

 

-&-

 

Daryl wasn’t sure what woke him up at first. He was lying in a very spacious bed in Rick’s guest room. The walls were all painted baby-blue, the carpet was thick enough to spend a night on it without regrets, and the pillow under his head made him feel as if he was resting on a cloud.

His gaze jumping around the surroundings, Daryl finally shrugged and tried to settle down again, when there was a noise coming from behind the wall. Shortly after, there was another one, then another, so Daryl sat up, staring at the blue paint, wondering what was going on. From what he had seen of the layout of the house, Daryl could guess that Rick’s bedroom was directly behind that wall, and judging by the small noise that happened yet again, Rick wasn’t sleeping peacefully.

Daryl hesitated. His mind screamed at him to get there and see if Rick was okay, wake him up if he was having a nightmare… _maybe kiss it away, if Rick let him._ But that would be too much like intruding, and Daryl wasn’t keen on doing that. He could understand that Rick needed his space, even if it bothered Daryl into biting his thumbnail and frowning at the wall. And so, he opted to just stay where he was, hoping that whatever Rick was dreaming about would go away.

However, when those muffled, painful noises turned into a shout about two minutes later, Daryl finally got out of bed. He padded quietly to the hallway, noticing immediately that there was light coming from the gap under Rick’s door. Hesitating only a moment, Daryl knocked softly, then opened the door when he heard a small “yeah” on the other side.

Rick was sitting on the bed, his side to Daryl, feet planted on the floor, rubbing tiredly at his face with his hand. Daryl squinted at him in the dim light of his bedside lamp, biting his lip when he noticed the slump in Rick’s shoulders and the way his chest heaved. The covers were rumpled and bunched up around Rick’s middle, clinging to his bare waist. The picture reminded Daryl of his own sleepless nights, when he had tried to get up lightning fast because a noise in the living room had startled him awake.  
“Ya okay?” He asked carefully, stepping in when Rick didn’t answer. He made his way to the bed, then sat down next to Rick. From up close, he could see the faint shiver that rocked Rick’s whole body. Daryl didn’t know if it was from the nightmare or from cold - Rick had gone to sleep wearing only his sweatpants, and there was a sheen of sweat covering his back, no doubt making the chill of the night even more noticeable. It also made Daryl want to wrap him up in the comforter and rub some warmth into his skin.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Rick asked, voice low. He was pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, looking a lot more tired than anyone should be at fuck-o’clock in the morning. Daryl shook his head, then realized that Rick wasn’t looking at him.  
“‘S okay, ‘m a light sleeper.”

Rick didn’t know what to do. He felt like a right ass for waking Daryl up and dragging him into this, too. Daryl, who wanted to be his friend. Daryl, who liked him. _Daryl, whose kiss had almost turned Rick inside-out._  
“You should go, get some sleep,” Rick said hesitantly. He didn’t want Daryl to go - there was something about this man that made it easy for Rick to just be himself. He could talk to Daryl without feeling as if he was judged, could tell him what was going on in the darkest corners of his mind, and Daryl wouldn’t try to belittle it or demand more than Rick could give.  
“Can stay if ya wanna,” Daryl gruffed out, one hand coming to rest on Rick’s shoulder.

There was something in this small gesture of comfort that crumbled the last of Rick’s walls. He curled up, leaning into Daryl and pushing his face into the t-shirt Daryl had borrowed from him. It was too tight for him, at least a size too small, and wonderfully soft under Rick’s cheek. He didn’t even notice when Daryl’s arms came up around him, pulling him into a warm hug, but suddenly, Rick found himself held securely against that broad chest, with Daryl’s voice murmuring low in his ear. Simple words and quiet reassurances, _I gotcha_ and _‘s okay_ spoken so quietly, they were but a breath breezing past him. And yet, somehow, they managed to settle Rick’s nerves, and stopped him from feeling like an open wound.

Before he could really gather what was happening, Daryl pulled away for a moment, tugged away the messed up comforter and gently pushed Rick down on the bed. Feeling scared in the middle of the night, vaguely remembering something Carl had said once about monsters under the bed, Rick curled up again, pressing his head to the pillow and tucking his damaged arm tightly against his chest. When he opened his eyes, Daryl was lying down next to him, facing Rick, pulling the covers back over the both of them.  
“Sleep, yeah?” Daryl prompted, one arm sneaking between Rick’s neck and the pillow, hooking behind his back and drawing him closer.

Daryl was so warm that Rick just wanted to press himself against his body from head to toe. He had a feeling that Daryl would chase away the cold outside and _inside_ of him.  
“‘S okay,” Daryl murmured again, his tone still soothing, finally prompting Rick to take what he needed. Uncurling a bit, shuffling closer, Rick pushed himself against Daryl, his head finding a spot on Daryl’s broad shoulder, his good arm wrapping around Daryl’s waist. The feeling of safety washed over Rick with such strength, he was left almost breathless in its wake. He wanted to mumble a quiet _thanks_ into Daryl’s chest…

He wasn’t sure he did, before he drifted off.

 

-&-

 

On the next day, Rick woke up alone. He frowned, when his sleep-addled brain informed him that the sun was already high up in the sky and that there was the unmistakable aroma of pancakes sneaking around him. Groaning, combing his hair with his fingers in an attempt at smoothing the wild curls out, Rick got out of bed and went to investigate.

He froze when he spotted Daryl in the kitchen, still wearing Rick’s borrowed clothes, a frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other. There was a stack of pancakes sitting on the counter nearby, and Rick’s mouth watered at the sight.  
“Mornin’,” Daryl gruffed out without turning around. Rick just stood there, blinking at him.

“Figured we could use a breakfast, an’ since ya didn’t have shit in yer fridge, I went out and bought some supplies,” Daryl explained, eyes still on the pan. Rick swallowed.  
“You made pancakes,” he stated, almost smacking himself at how dumb that sounded. He could see when Daryl frowned, finally turning to look at him.  
“Yeah?” Daryl said, sounding unsure. “That a problem?”  
“No, no,” Rick shook his head empathically. “I just… it’s been a long time since I ate those,” he muttered with a shrug.  
“Well… dig in, then,” Daryl nodded at the plate, then put the last pancake on it.

He went over to the table, where he had placed two plates with forks earlier. There was a grocery bag on one of the chairs, and Daryl dug out jam and maple syrup, placing them on the table as well. Rick had no choice but to sit down and enjoy the breakfast - and really, he couldn’t remember when was the last time he enjoyed a meal more.

 

-&-

 

After their breakfast and some pretty strong coffee, they changed into fresh clothes and decided to get some work done. Daryl had wanted to help Rick with the garden, but the sink got unexpectedly clogged, and he turned his attention to sorting it out instead. Rick knew that there was no way the both of them would be able to work on one sink, so he got himself busy in the garden.

It was surprisingly nice - even if the work was slow, he still managed to cut some of the bushes. There were a few roses, tall and blooming, so he tried to avoid shredding them, instead getting rid of the wild sprouts.

The methodical snip - draw back - snip was a great exercise, and he felt getting himself surer with every falling branch. This, in turn, let his thoughts wander to what had happened the night before. Daryl had been so calm, so _gentle_ with him, Rick was almost sure the man could be called a saint. He had lost track of how many times Lori had freaked out on him, before she had finally given up and left him. At first she had tried to be understanding, but Rick’s problems had proved to be too much for her. She had run away with Shane and -

Rick’s left hand slipped, his palm skittering to the side and catching against one of the already cut branches. The tip pressed against the meat of his palm, hard enough to break the skin and slice through it, forming a two inches long cut on the inside of his hand, deeper at one end.

Rick jerked his arm away with a hiss, cradling it against his chest on reflex. It fucking _hurt,_ a throbbing kind of pain that shot right through his hand and ended in his fingertips, forcing a groan past his lips. He stood up and kicked the bush out of frustration, feeling a sick kind of satisfaction when he heard something break.  
“Shit,” Rick muttered, glancing down at his hand. It was bleeding profusely by now, the redness soaking up the t-shirt he was wearing. He sighed and pressed it to his stomach more tightly, gritting his teeth at the sharp stab of pain it caused. Shuffling into the house, Rick directed his steps to the kitchen.

Daryl was inside, still doing something under the sink. He crawled back and peered at Rick, his mouth opening in an almost comical gasp when he took Rick in - blood on his t-shirt, hand gripping his stomach.  
“What…?” He asked, getting up and making his way to Rick, eyes wide. Seeing this, Rick felt bad for startling him like that.  
“I’m fine,” he muttered quickly, hissing when Daryl grabbed his arm and tugged it away slowly, eyes focused on the bloody stain. “It’s just my hand.”  
“Thank _fuck!”_ Daryl grumbled, turning his wrist a bit, examining the wound.

He led Rick to the table, sitting him down in one of the chairs and taking a spot next to him. He grabbed a handful of paper towels, pressed them to the cut to soak up the blood, before he looked at it closely.  
“You should have it stitched up,” Daryl pointed out, gaze following a new trickle of blood, before he patted it away with the paper.  
“No.”  
“‘S too deep to heal on its own,” Daryl argued, peering at the cut again, frowning when it just kept on bleeding.  
_“No.”_ Rick rasped out and pulled his hand away. He stood up, making as if he wanted to leave, but Daryl grabbed his shirt. Rick looked down in surprise, taking in the way Daryl’s fingers twisted in the soft material.

“Sit _down,”_ Daryl gruffed, narrowed eyes looking calculating, as he waited for Rick to get back on the chair. “Got any butterfly stitches?” He asked, gritting his teeth when Rick shook his head.  
“No.”  
“Alright, wait ‘ere.” And with that, Daryl was moving away, walking to his toolbox, rummaging through it. He pulled a roll of duct tape out, grabbed the electric tape that was lying on the counter, and walked back to Rick. He placed the tapes on the table, turned around to retrieve scissors from where they were hanging on the wall, then looked at Rick imploringly.

“Got any alcohol stronger than beer?” Daryl asked, making a face as if the question was stupid.  
“In the freezer,” Rick said quietly, looking down at his hand. He knew that he hadn’t made the best first impression on Daryl, certainly not with all those empty bottles lying around, but he hoped he didn’t come across as a total waste of air…

Daryl returned to the table with a bottle of vodka in hand, new and unopened, chilled enough to start gathering condensation even before it was set down with the other supplies. He sat next to Rick and tugged his hand back on the table, placing it on a handful of paper towels and splaying the fingers none too gently.  
“Why no doctors?” He asked conversationally, opening the bottle of vodka and pouring some on a spare towel. He grasped Rick’s wrist, and Rick steeled himself for a sharp sting that would inevitably follow.  
“The last time… it wasn’t so good.” Rick shrugged, eyes following Daryl’s movements.

He had to admit that it came as a great surprise when Daryl, instead of pressing the vodka-soaked towel right over the cut, started to gently dab away on the side of the wound, avoiding the center and cleaning the skin around it. He worked slowly, meticulously wiping away the blood, carefully moving closer to the cut.  
“‘S gonna sting,” he warned Rick, before he passed the towel over the cut, his fingers tightening around Rick’s wrist to stop him from pulling away. Rick hissed, wincing, but was once again surprised when the sensation stopped quickly. He glanced at Daryl, their gazes meeting, before Daryl went back to his task.

He grabbed the duct tape, cut a few thin strips of it, then put it away, sticking the pieces to the corner of the table. When Daryl brought Rick’s palm up to his face and pursed his lips, Rick was practically sure that he was going to kiss it. It was so bizarre that he almost laughed aloud when, instead of pressing his lips to his hurt hand, Daryl blew softly on it, making sure the alcohol had evaporated and the skin was dry.

Using the pieces of tape as improvised butterfly stitches, Daryl closed the wound quickly, frowning when it kept on bleeding. Wiping away a few crimson spots when he was done, Daryl told Rick to wait for him, then walked out of the house.

When he came back, it was with his hand full of green leaves, the ones Rick had once tried to get rid of. Whatever the plant was, it grew all over his lawn, not that it concerned him now - once upon the time, Lori might have been getting really upset about it messing their backyard. Now, Rick didn’t give a fuck.  
“What’s that for?” He asked, nodding to the leaves in Daryl’s hand.  
“Yarrow.” Daryl shrugged, then went to wash them in the sink. “Helps with the bleedin’,” he explained, sitting down next to Rick and mashing the leaves together until they formed a green pulp. He put them along the cut, then pressed a clean paper towel to it. Using a few strips of electric tape, he secured the towel in place, creating an improvised dressing.

“Don’t use it too much till it starts to heal,” he gruffed out, collecting the items and putting them away. Rick chuckled quietly.  
“Right,” he muttered, glancing at the stump of his right hand, shaking his head incredulously.  
“‘M serious. I can help ya, if ya want, make ya dinner an’ shit. But ya have ta keep it away from water and not move it too much, or ya’ll tear it open ‘gain.” Daryl walked around Rick and got under the sink once more.  
“Thank you,” Rick said, feeling sheepish for some reason.  
“Yer welcome,” came the raspy, cigarette-filled voice.

Rick smiled, relaxing back into the chair, gaze slipping over the edge of the electric tape stuck to his skin. It sat in stark contrast to his skin, and made him feel dizzy the longer he looked at it, so he finally gave up, dragging his gaze away. It landed on Daryl’s ass sticking out from under the sink, and Rick felt a jolt of arousal making its way down his spine.

Daryl was an attractive man, and Rick had always had a thing for attractive men… the problem was, as always, his injury. For the past year, he had been constantly reminded what a fuckup he was. Lori had declared him a lost cause a long time before he had given up on himself. Even back when she had still been living with him, when Rick had been trying to make it right, he had difficulties getting through the lack of his dominant hand. Every time he had reached out to touch her, the fingers that no longer existed had turned into thin air, and his intended caress had gone unnoticed. He had looked down then, a frown forming on his brow, before he had remembered that there hadn’t been a hand to use anymore.

Lori had gritted her teeth through his attempts, until he had finally given up on trying to please her. He had given up on trying to please himself, too - trying to jerk off with a hand that hadn’t been there anymore had been a hard blow every time he had tried it. So he had stopped. The topic had been pushed to the back burner, until it had ceased to exist, along with his sexual drive. It was easier this way... it didn’t _hurt_ like this.

It came as a surprise then, when he had felt that hot spark of arousal lighting up his insides, and caused by the shape of Daryl’s ass, nevertheless. Daryl _was_ an attractive man, but Rick needed his friendship a lot more than he needed a failed tumble in the sheets - because he would fail, he was sure of that. There was no way he wouldn’t. And then, whatever friendship he had miraculously formed with Daryl would be dead, crushed under his inability to act like a man…

Rick shook his head. _No, Daryl wasn’t like that._ But Rick was still reluctant to risk it.

But Daryl _had_ kissed him…

Shaking his head again, feeling fuzzy, Rick finally stood up and went out of the kitchen. He had a hunch he would give himself a migraine if he kept up all that thinking. Not really knowing what to do with himself now when both of his arms were useless, he went to the porch at the back of the house and sat down on the chair, his gaze getting lost in the blooming bushes.

 

-&-

 

Daryl joined him about an hour later, walking out on the porch, cleaning his hands with a red rag. Rick had seen it before, tucked into Daryl’s back pocket.  
“Ya okay?” Daryl asked, frowning, taking in Rick’s rather melancholic expression. Rick only nodded, eyes following the sweeping movement of the rag. The way it took away sweat and dirt was tantalizing, rubbing over Daryl’s flesh and leaving it a bit reddened from the friction.

“Pretty useless again, huh?” Rick muttered, raising his arms and closing his eyes. He bit his lip not to let more slip, trying desperately not to show just how much it affected him. He absolutely hated not being able to do anything.  
“Hey.” Daryl’s voice was suddenly very close, and Rick’s eyes opened wide in surprise, meeting a pair of stormy blues staring right at him. Daryl was kneeling in front of him, his red rag forgotten on the ground, both hands placed on Rick’s thighs.  
“Daryl…” Rick almost choked out, his throat tightening. Daryl looked so damn _good_ like this, Rick’s imagination didn’t have troubles creating a few steamy scenarios.

_Daryl using his broad hands to get Rick out of his trousers… Daryl sucking him off right there and then… Rick’s fingers tugging at Daryl’s hair -_

Rick closed his eyes again, gritting his teeth. _There would be no fingers in hair, nor would there be any sucking._ Not only his right hand was missing, but his _left_ one was injured now, too, and it was useless for anything else than hanging limply off of his forearm. And he better be careful even doing that, lest he hurts himself even _more, and -_

And suddenly, Daryl was _kissing_ him, pressing his lips tentatively to Rick’s, one of those broad palms cupping his jaw carefully and tilting his head back for a better angle. Rick gasped in surprise, and Daryl used the opportunity to sneak his tongue inside his mouth, giving him a curious lick. That soft tongue rubbing against his own set Rick’s nerves on fire, shooting electricity through his veins. He moaned and opened his mouth wider, giving Daryl an even easier access. When Daryl pressed himself closer, pushing Rick further against the chair, Rick couldn’t help but try to grab a hold of him. He needed to feel that man against him, needed to get as close as he could. He wrapped his arms around Daryl’s back, then moved his hands up.

Rick froze, realizing that his left hand was hurting with every flex of his fingers. He broke the kiss, panting, glancing at it over Daryl’s shoulder. The dressing stuck to his palm had dark spots where redness was bleeding through. Rick winced when he shifted his gaze to his other hand, only to find white bandage wrapped around the stump. The reality came crashing down around him so hard he couldn’t breathe suddenly.

Daryl leaned back, eyes narrowed, his calculating gaze slipping over Rick’s face and down his body. His own hands stopped their rubbing motion he had picked up sometime during their kiss, and he squeezed Rick’s thighs to get his attention.  
“Sorry,” Rick murmured quietly, looking to the side, biting his lip. He could feel his arousal vanishing, disappearing into nothingness in the face of his disability. _Rick waited for Daryl to do the same._  
“‘S okay,” Daryl assured, sounding strangely confident. Rick didn’t know where did he get that sureness from, but he clung to it with everything he had. Steeling himself, he finally dragged his gaze back to the man still kneeling in front of him. Rick expected anything from pity, to anger, to disappointment.

What he wasn’t prepared for, was the _warmth_ in Daryl’s eyes and a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, looking for all the world like a shy smirk.  
“Raincheck?” Daryl proposed, raising one eyebrow at him, and Rick nodded jerkily.  
“I… yeah.”

_Daryl wasn’t mad._

He wasn’t mad, or discouraged, or doubtful. He leaned up and gave Rick a quick kiss, before he stood up and dug out his cigarettes, then leaned back against the wall of the house to smoke one. Rick just sat there, stealing glances, eyes following clouds of smoke when they flew from Daryl’s mouth and dispersed in the crisp air around them.

 

-&-

 

Later in the evening, after showering and changing into two sets of sweats and t-shirts, they cuddled up close on Rick’s couch. They had made out a few times, but it had always ended with Rick backing off, and Daryl letting him, going back to whatever they had been doing before their lips had gotten locked together. Daryl wasn’t pushy or demanding, obviously ignoring his own want. It had put a strange sense of security over Rick, something that made him smile a bit when he was lying between Daryl’s splayed legs, his head cushioned on Daryl’s chest, watching some mind-numbing TV and drinking beer. Daryl had made them spaghetti for dinner, and the leftovers were still sitting on the coffee table, getting into Rick’s line of vision.

“‘T was the farmer,” Daryl commented, taking a sip of his beer, careful not to hit Rick’s head with it.  
“Nope. The black guy. He did it for his girlfriend.”  
“Seriously?” Daryl sounded scandalized. “Killin’ her new boyfriend to win ‘er back? That’s some backwards logic…”  
“People aren’t logical when it comes to love,” Rick mumbled, shrugging.  
“True. Don’t think it was him, tho.”  
“But the farmer had an alibi…”  
“Fake.” Daryl countered, placing the beer back on the table, his hand coming to rest on Rick’s back. He rubbed up and down, digging his fingers between Rick’s vertebrae, dragging them to his side, over the ribs, just to repeat it all over again. When he tucked one hand under Rick’s chin and turned it up just to kiss him softly, Rick shivered, feeling sparks of pleasure trickling down his spine.

“Daryl…” Rick practically breathed out. He wanted to tell Daryl that it was for nothing, that there was no way this could work. He felt himself getting hard, his cock trapped inside his pants and underneath his body. He was half-lying on Daryl still, and Daryl’s own arousal was very noticeable, poking Rick into his stomach through a thin layer of cotton. But it would all go to waste, crumble down like a house of cards as soon as Rick tried to do something...  
“Shhh…” Daryl went on kissing him, ignoring Rick’s half-assed protests. He knew why Rick was hesitant, and he knew that it was all _bullshit._

Rick thought he was too damaged for this, that his body wouldn’t go through with what he wanted. Daryl knew he was wrong, he had felt the evidence of Rick’s lust a few times that day. Rick’s dick worked _fine,_ and Daryl was ready to show him just that.

He tightened his arms around Rick, then rolled them around awkwardly, shuffling on the couch until Rick was lying under him, eyes wide and fiery, one leg wedged between Daryl’s thighs. He still looked a bit hesitant, though, something that seemed ingrained so deeply in his brain that he couldn’t really help it. Daryl eyed him, assessing.  
“Ya want this?” He asked, gaze focused on Rick.  
“I… I _can’t,_ Daryl…”  
“Not what I asked. Do you _want_ this?” Daryl repeated, leveling Rick with a smoldering look. He could see Rick swallow reflexively, his Adam’s apple bobbing. After a moment of indecision, Rick nodded, and Daryl attached himself to his lips immediately, leaning in and nibbling on them, sucking the bottom one into his mouth just to hear Rick’s longing moan.

Daryl went on kissing him until their lungs reminded them that air was still important. He gulped in a rushed breath and turned his head to the side, dragging his mouth down to Rick’s neck, delighting in the sharp buck of Rick’s hips against his own. He couldn’t help but grin into the delicate skin.

_Rick was definitely hard inside his pants._

Feeling strangely proud for causing that, Daryl let his hands travel down, his fingers finding a gap between Rick’s t-shirt and his sweats, dipping under the waistband. The skin he found there was silky smooth and warm, _so warm,_ Daryl just _had to_ rub his fingertips over it a few times, provoking a small shiver to go through the man. Rick inhaled sharply when Daryl kept his hands moving, pushing Rick’s pants down over the curve of his ass, freeing his cock. On instinct, Rick reached out to do the same for Daryl, then froze when he was reminded once again about his damaged limbs.

It didn’t stop Daryl, though.

He pulled away only for long enough to push his own sweats out of the way, then stretched on top of Rick. He gave Rick a thoughtful look, before he grabbed both of Rick’s arms and tugged them up, forearms crossing just over Rick’s head. Daryl used one hand to hold them there, keeping his grip light but firm, pinning the arms in place and stopping any attempts Rick might have made at reaching for him.    
“Okay?” Daryl asked quietly, propping himself on his other hand, his chest heaving with every breath. Rick nodded, biting his lip and giving a small moan when Daryl rocked above him, rubbing their dicks together. They were both hard and the dry friction created between them was almost too much, but neither complained.

Rick sucked in another sharp breath, straining up and testing the hold Daryl had on his forearms. It wasn’t too hard, but it still stopped Rick from even trying to use them without any conscious effort. It was surprisingly refreshing to have that decision taken out of his metaphorical hands. Seeing no other choice but to follow Daryl’s lead, Rick leaned in and kissed him softly, moaning happily when Daryl deepened it just a moment later, his tongue plunging into Rick’s mouth and taking his breath away. Daryl kissed him like he couldn’t get enough, like Rick’s taste was everything that was important in the world, the last thing worth living for.

_Rick couldn’t remember the last time anyone had kissed him like that._

And then, Daryl was moving over him, _thrusting_ against him, causing sparkling electricity that flooded Rick’s body and mind. His brain started to go offline shockingly fast, the sense of security and care washing over him like a tidal wave, and Rick let himself be carried away with it, rocking up into Daryl, rubbing their bodies together until the friction changed into a slick slide. Pleasure spread through Rick like blazing fire, burning his nerve endings and turning him to ash. He was aware that he was making sounds - feeling almost alien coming from him - but he had no power to stop them. He let his mind drift, arching up against Daryl, his back coming clean off the couch.

Daryl gruffed out his name, a small and raspy “Rick!” that had no right to devastate him as thoroughly as it did. He came with a drawn-out moan, shaking so hard he was sure he was going to fall apart. He would, if it hadn’t been for Daryl’s hands on his arms and Daryl’s steady weight pressing him down, keeping him whole.

He didn’t even know when Daryl finished, only that suddenly the room around them fell still and quiet, filled only with the distant sound of the TV and their harsh, too rapid breathing.  
“Jesus…” Rick whispered, surprised. Daryl huffed, the air leaving him warming up the skin on Rick’s chest. It felt decadent and different… it felt good enough for Rick to forget about his disabilities.

He moved his arms carefully, freeing them from Daryl’s slack grip, then wrapped them around Daryl’s chest, pressing his bandaged left hand carefully to Daryl’s ribs. It was right, somehow, to hold him like this, as if he was Rick’s personal safety blanket. And it didn’t seem that Daryl minded - quite the opposite, in fact. He hummed and shifted a bit, sliding to the side until most of his weight rested between Rick and the back of the couch, one arm thrown over Rick’s ribcage, making sure they would not separate. He buried his face in Rick’s neck and just lied there, cuddled up close, letting their heartbeats come back to normal. It was then that a realization hit Rick hard between the eyes.

_He had never had this._

Even back when things were all going more or less smoothly, when he and Lori had still had sex, it was always so much different… They had fucked and then, Lori had slithered off to the bathroom most often - sometimes to take a shower, sometimes just to clean up quickly by the sink. Rick had just stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling until his body had started to shiver from the cold air around him, before he had gotten up and gone to give himself a perfunctory swipe with a wet cloth. They had come to bed again, half an hour later, just to bury under the covers on their respective sides, falling asleep quickly, curled up and snuggled into the pillows.

Rinse and repeat. _Ad nauseam._

Right now, though, fitted neatly against Daryl’s body, practically lying _underneath_ him, Rick felt almost… _happy._ It was strange, with their mixed come drying between their abdomens, with Daryl’s legs tangled between Rick’s own, and their t-shirts still a bit damp with sweat. The mess they were right now wasn’t enough to discourage either of them, and they kept on touching each other lightly, running careful fingertips over every inch of skin they couldn’t kiss.

He must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing Rick knew, he was being jolted awake by Daryl moving over him, climbing off the couch and standing up. He brought his arms up and stretched, his bones popping into place loud enough to actually be heard, and Rick huffed out quietly, suddenly amused. Daryl’s eyes narrowed when he looked at him, a small smirk forming on his face when he took in the picture. Rick let his eyes travel down over his own body, noticing the state he was in - sweats still halfway down his ass, his tummy covered with dried up come and sticky with sweat, some of it smeared over the lower part of his tee.

Rick glanced up sheepishly, stomping down the urge to cover himself up. There was something in Daryl’s gaze that told him he enjoyed the view very much. Strangely, Rick was A-okay with it, too, so he covered himself up only when the cool air of the room made him shiver a bit too much. He tucked himself in carefully, scrunching his nose at the mess on his abdomen. They had to go and clean up, much as Rick didn’t like the thought - the way he was now, body slack and sated, literally dirty from what they had done - it proved that he wasn’t completely useless, completely _damaged._

He lied there for a moment longer, eyes following Daryl when he walked around the living room, looking for his pack of cigarettes he had left somewhere earlier. After he found them, he took one out, showed it to Rick and made to go to the back door to smoke.

_Rick had the ridiculous urge to tell him to just smoke inside._

_Lori would have had a fit._

“You can smoke in here,” Rick said hastily, pausing Daryl’s stride mid-step. His friend turned around and eyed him curiously. After a moment, he got back on the couch and plopped down on it, but not before he lifted Rick’s legs to make some space for himself. Daryl let them fall back down once he was seated, keeping them in his lap with one hand, as he looked through the leftovers on the coffee table. He spotted a bit of aluminium foil he had used to cover their dinner earlier and brought it up, shaping it between nimble fingers until it looked like a tiny bowl. He set it between Rick’s ankles resting across his own thighs, then lit up the cigarette, taking a quick drag and blowing the smoke into the air above them.

Rick wasn’t a smoker himself, had tried it a few times, got rid of his coughing fits, then decided he didn’t like the taste. His brief encounter with cigarettes wasn’t a reason enough to stare at Daryl like he did right now, though, gaze following every movement Daryl made while inhaling the smoke and blowing it out towards the ceiling. Daryl must have caught him staring, for he handed the cigarette over to Rick, a small smirk playing on his lips.  
“I don’t smoke.” Rick shook his head minutely, even though his eyes were glued to the offered cancer stick. Daryl huffed out a quiet laugh.  
“Ya look like ya wanna, anyway,” he gruffed out, a glint present in his narrow eyes. Rick went on staring at the cigarette for long enough for it to become apparent that he wasn’t going to take it. Daryl took it back with a thoughtful look, inhaling a long drag, before he leaned closer.

Rick couldn’t tell how he knew that Daryl would blow the smoke out for him, he just _did._ He shifted towards Daryl instinctively, almost as if he was expecting a kiss, knowing at the back of his head that he would only get a lungful of smoke. When Daryl exhaled, the cloud flew between them, only to get sucked up by Rick.

The smoke was irritating enough to almost make him cough, his throat burning. But Rick resisted, immediately wanting a repeat of what Daryl had just done. He got it a few moments later, when Daryl took another inhale and fed it to him slowly, leaning closer until their noses were almost touching. The third dose ended up with them kissing, having no recollection of who started it and who followed. Rick couldn’t really focus on the logistics and chronology, anyway, not when it was suddenly so _easy_ to do it, to fall into each other and share this simple contact.

And that was it, really - the ease of this whole encounter robbing Rick’s lungs of air and tightening his throat far more than any acrid smoke ever could. His mind went pleasantly blank, empty save for what Daryl was doing with his tongue against Rick’s own, and one of Daryl’s hands finding its way behind Rick’s head, keeping him close when his muscles protested the strain of the strange position he had put his body in.

They parted much later, with Rick sighing in contentment and Daryl carefully flicking off the accumulated ash into the makeshift aluminium ashtray. Without word, they got up and went to clean themselves up a bit, before relocating to Rick’s bedroom. Soon enough, Daryl was snoring softly behind Rick, one arm thrown possessively over Rick’s waist, his face pressed into Rick’s neck. And if Rick stayed awake for longer than he usually did, his mind running through what had happened during the day, he was okay with that, too.

 

-&-

 

Daryl woke up to a crushing weight on his throat. He jolted, hands shooting up immediately, eyes opening in the darkness of the room. There was a shadowed figure perched over him, keeping him down, and Daryl tried to gulp in some much needed air.

Rick was leaning over him, knees tight against Daryl’s waist, his bandaged forearm curled protectively to his chest, while the other was braced against Daryl’s windpipe. Daryl could feel that the improvised dressing was gone, and the hand was wet. He coughed, trying to get some oxygen in, but he felt it was no use - a bit more press and his air supply would be cut off completely.  
“Shhh…” Rick whispered above him, and Daryl frowned, looking at him.

Rick was staring right at Daryl, but his eyes were all _wrong_ \- wild and unfocused, a mad quality to them that reminded Daryl of a trapped animal. _Rick was dreaming._

_Oh shit…_

“Rick!” He choked out, forcing his hands away from Rick’s arm. _It wouldn’t help._ He had to think fast, or this would be over very soon. Daryl might have had the advantage of size over him, but Rick had still been a cop. And right now he had Daryl in a very compromising position, already on his back and pinned to the ground.

Knowing he had to wake Rick up somehow, suspecting that any attempt at violence will make Rick act even more aggressively, probably, Daryl brought his palms to Rick’s sides. He rubbed them up and down, hoping the gentle touch would startle Rick into consciousness. He knew enough to assume that there had been no gentleness or comfort in what had happened to Rick over a year ago. Maybe touching him lightly, tentatively, would feel alien enough to get him to wake up.

It seemed to work, because after a moment Rick froze above him, some of his weight letting up.  
_“Rick, ‘s okay, ‘s only a dream,”_ Daryl whispered, trying not to cough reflexively, feeling Rick’s body relax and tense up again.  
“Daryl?” He asked, blinking rapidly. He drew his arm away, shooting a panicked glance around, before he was tearing out of bed, landing on his ass when he tripped on something on the floor, crawling away until his back hit the wall. Daryl was at his side in a flash.

Rick’s head was spinning, Daryl’s panicked expression in front of his eyes every time he closed them for a split second. He didn’t know what had just happened, other that he had attacked Daryl in the middle of the night. He had had a dream about that fucking cellar again, _he had gotten away from the Governor and his men, but one of them remained. The last one. Rick had jumped on him, tumbled to the ground, and gotten on top. And when he was halfway done choking him, that guy’s ugly mug suddenly morphed into Daryl._

“Rick.” A raspy whisper to his left startled Rick, and he curled up a bit more, a string of “no, no, no, no…” leaving his lips in a rush.

_He didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to hurt Daryl, attack him like this, choke him an- Oh god, what would have happened had he not woken up when he did? Would Daryl fight him back? Daryl should. He was too dangerous to even sleep next to him, too fucked up -_

“Hey, breathe,” Daryl gruffed out, his hands finding Rick’s shoulders, rubbing up and down soothingly. Rick shook his head jerkily, curling up even more. Feeling like he was falling apart, he fisted his left hand in the soft material of his t-shirt, only to wince when it throbbed with pain. He pulled it away, staring blankly down at his palm, noticing that the dressing Daryl had fixed over the cut earlier was gone, and the wound was open and bleeding once again, the redness rendered almost black in the darkness of the room.

There was a movement next to him, soft footsteps following, and soon, the bedroom was flooded with the soft glow of his bedside lamp, Daryl’s figure appearing at his side again a moment later. Rick shifted his eyes to his friend hesitatingly, his gaze landing on the blood smeared all over Daryl’s throat and a better part of the collar of his tee.  
“I’m sorry,” Rick choked out, looking away, choosing instead to stare at the floor in front of him.

_What the hell has he done?_

“‘S okay,” Daryl assured from his spot on the floor, looking at Rick intently, his gaze heavy enough for Rick to _feel_ it without a glance in Daryl’s direction. Before Rick could really comprehend what was going on, Daryl wrapped his fingers around Rick’s wounded hand, drawing it closer gently and examining the re-opened cut. It was bleeding again, albeit, thankfully, not as much as it had previously. “Wait ‘ere, ‘kay?” Daryl asked, waiting for Rick’s nod. He stood up then, and padded away on quiet feet.

He was back about a minute later, holding a roll of duct tape and a pack of tissues. He re-dressed Rick’s cut, working quickly but carefully, closing the wound again and covering it with a clean tissue. He taped the paper to Rick’s skin, paying special attention to make it hold as long as it possibly could.

Rick didn’t move from the floor, sitting with his back against the wall, trying not to hyperventilate every time Daryl’s gentle fingers maneuvered his hand. He kept his right forearm pressed tightly to his stomach, had his knees drawn up almost to his chest, and was staring unseeing into space.  
“Rick,” Daryl’s raspy voice brought him back to the present, and looked up, noticing only now that Daryl was done dressing his wound, and was instead just holding Rick’s hand in his, one strong thumb rubbing over Rick’s knuckles. “Yer okay?”  
“I…” Rick hesitated, swallowing thickly. _Was he?_

_After what he did?_

He didn’t know. But the way Daryl’s thumb just kept on tracing a mindless pattern into his skin, the way Daryl stared into his eyes with concern, gave Rick a little courage.  
“I’m fine. I’m gonna _be_ fine.”

Wordlessly, Daryl nodded, then stood up. He tugged Rick with him and soon, they were climbing back into bed, turning the light off as they went. Rick protested when Daryl tried to spoon up behind him.  
“Don’t… I don’t know…” He trailed off, not sure how to finish that. _I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know if I won’t hurt you again. I don’t know what will happen now…_  
“Don’t care.” Daryl’s voice was rough, but the words were soothing enough to make Rick stop fighting both, Daryl and his own mind. He relaxed, giving up, letting Daryl wrap both of his arms around his waist and draw him close.

“I ain’t scared,” Daryl whispered into his ear, placing a small kiss right under the earlobe. Somehow, it was enough to calm Rick down, make him close his eyes and drift off into a dreamless sleep.

 

-&-

 

After a week, it was clear to Daryl that Rick’s hand healed a lot faster than his heart. The cut was barely there, being taken care of by both, Rick _and_ Daryl. But Rick was still reluctant to initiate anything between them, be it sex or only kissing. Hell, he was still trying to pull away from Daryl every time they got to sleep together, making feeble excuses which Daryl kissed and cuddled away, until Rick was happily stuck to Daryl’s side or tucked against his chest. It wasn’t that they had experienced any more problems, not as far as Daryl was concerned - Rick had nightmares, and he had gone through a few while sleeping with Daryl, but it wasn’t something to panic about. There hadn’t been another episode of Rick sleepwalking - or sleep _choking_ \- and all Daryl had had to do was to hold him tighter and whisper into his ear, until Rick had woken up from whatever bad dream he had been having.

“You look worried,” Carol’s voice tore Daryl out of his thoughts, and he looked up, a frown still present on his face. He had come to her to get a cup of coffee and catch up, maybe spend some time with Sophia. But the little girl was too occupied with her homework to play with him, and Daryl was content to let her finish her maths and literature, before they started goofing around. He wanted the girl to have a better life than he had, and getting her grades right was the first step on the road of getting a good future. In the meantime, he sat himself in Carol’s kitchen and sipped his coffee slowly, his mind running over the situation with Rick in restless circles.

“It’s Rick,” Daryl gruffed out, shrugging. He could feel Carol’s gaze on him, calculating and warm.  
“How is he doing?” She asked conversationally. It was an opening, and Daryl knew that. She would never push him - she didn’t even have to. She was maybe the only person other than Rick that he would willingly spend hours talking to.

_Rick…_

“He was doin’ better. Now ‘t stopped.” Daryl brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, then paused, realizing it was a habit he had picked up from Rick. _Jesus. Yeah, he was in deep._  
“Something happened?” Carol asked, eyeing him. She must have seen what he had done just a moment before. Daryl winced.  
“Don’t know…” he shrugged again. “I mean, things happened, but… they were good things.”  
_“Good_ things? Just _how_ good?” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and Daryl groaned, banging his head on her table. He mumbled out his response. Carol scoffed.  
“Didn’t hear that, Pookie.”  
“Had sex,” Daryl repeated, feeling a wild blush spreading over his face. He pressed his forehead harder against the wooden surface.  
“Oh.”

Suddenly, she didn’t sound like she was ready to laugh any second. There was something warm in her voice, something that made Daryl look at her from the corner of his eye, still keeping his head on the table.  
“What happened?”  
“Carol… you _know_ what happens when two people - ”  
_“Not_ what I meant,” she interrupted him calmly. “What happened that made you so worried?”  
“I don’t know…” Daryl sighed, straightening up and putting his elbows on the table. He looked at his coffee, biting his lip for a moment, before he even tried an explanation.

“‘T was good. Then… Rick went an’ fucked up his hand… We… did what we did. And then he had a nightmare an’ tried to strangle me, an’ now he’s back ta bein’ that scared colt, an’ - ”  
“Breathe, Pookie,” Carol reminded him, and to his surprise, Daryl discovered that he was shaking, breathing way too rapidly and shallowly. He gulped in a few lungfuls of air, then bit his lip again. “So you two had sex, and now Rick’s acting... what?”  
_“Scared.”_ Daryl grumbled. “Like when I met ‘im. He started goin’ out and workin’ on that forest he calls a garden… but when he went an’ fucked up his _left_ hand, that put him on house duty for a week. An’ he stopped carin’ what was happenin’ ‘round him, too.” Daryl growled in irritation. “Two steps forward, one step back,” he muttered, more to himself.

Carol nodded, wincing in sympathy.  
“Is his hand better now?” She asked, sounding like she was already forming a plan in her head.  
“Yeah, mostly healed.” Daryl confirmed, narrowing his eyes at her. Carol nodded again.  
“Maybe you should try taking him out somewhere?” She proposed, and Daryl would have laughed, if it hadn’t been for the worry filling him to the brim.  
“Yer mad, woman. _Me?_ Takin’ anyone _out?_ Takin’ _Rick_ out? Ya know he ain’t really social…”  
“I’m not talking about parading him around our local fair… You have a bike you’re working on, right?”  
“Yeah?” He eyed her suspiciously, not really knowing where she was going with it.  
“How long till you finish it?”  
“‘Bout a week, I guess.”

Daryl hoped it would be a week. It had taken too long already, but between his usual odd jobs and spending his time with Rick, there had been no space left for the bike. It wasn’t that Daryl felt bad about it, he just wanted the damn thing finished already. He looked up at Carol, wanting to tell her just that, when he spotted her smiling brightly at her.  
“What?” He asked gruffly.  
“You should check out Jesus’ instagram,” she chirped, and Daryl groaned, rolling his eyes.  
“Ya know I don’t do that thing,” he protested, but Carol interrupted him.  
“You want to help Rick, right?”  
“‘Course.”  
“Check his instagram.”

Daryl waited for something else to follow, but when she just stood there and stared at him imploringly, looking strangely confident, Daryl sighed and pulled out his phone. Cursing a bit at the wi-fi signal and the pending updates that attacked him as soon as he got online, he brought up the app and searched for Jesus.

The guy was a loon. Daryl had met him on one of his odd jobs, something in Jesus’ bike had been giving him a headache, getting stubbornly broken every time he had run the engine for more than five minutes. Daryl had found the problem and fixed it, and Jesus had considered him a friend ever since.  
“Alright, ‘m in. What now?” He asked, his eyes flickering to Carol, who was still standing there and smiling.  
“Scroll down until you see a rose.”

Daryl frowned, but did as he was told, locating the photo of a red rose. He clicked on it and got to the post, then read the description.

Not really seeing the connection between the post and what they had been talking about, he opened his mouth to ask Carol to clarify, when something _clicked._ He looked up and smirked.  
“Thanks.”

 

-&-

 

In the end, it took Daryl two weeks to finish the bike. He hopped on it as soon as he was done tightening the last screw, eager to go and show it to Rick. He knew the man would be waiting for him - they had agreed to meet in the evening. Rick’s roof was completely repaired by now, his plumbing was working great, and his garden was almost presentable. Rick was growing sunflowers and roses, a few calendulas, and a small patch filled with wildflowers that they just hadn’t had the heart to get rid of.

That last part, together with Carol’s prompting and Jesus’ instagram, gave Daryl an idea. Most of what was currently being cultivated in Rick’s garden was either freshly planted or freshly trimmed, and there weren’t a lot of blossoms yet… except for the wildflowers patch, where they were growing high and pretty, blooming with all possible colors. The summer was slowly coming to an end, but there had been enough sunshine and warmth around to keep the wildflowers stunning in their simple beauty.

_Daryl hoped Rick wouldn’t have anything against sharing a few of them._

He jumped off his bike and walked to the front door, smiling shyly when Rick greeted him at the entrance to his house, opening the door before Daryl had a chance to knock.  
“Hey,” Rick said, smiling, taking him in. Daryl was aware how he looked right now - he had his washed down, once-black jeans, a shirt with the sleeves cut off and his leather vest thrown into the mix as an afterthought. He had been working on his bike, after all, and when the time came to show up and show off at Rick’s, he had pulled the winged vest on just to keep the wind at bay on his way here.

“Finished it,” Daryl mumbled, stepping aside when Rick peeked over his shoulder. He froze when his gaze landed on the bike, parked neatly in front of his house.  
“Oh my… is that the bike you were working on?” Rick asked, eyes widening. He walked forward, stepping towards the machine almost mechanically, like he was in a trance, eyes glued to the bike. He stopped only when he was standing right in front of it, reaching out tentatively and touching the tank. Daryl went after him, raising one hand to chew on his thumb. There was something reverent in the way Rick’s - now completely healed - palm rubbed over the bare metal of it, following the curve with careful fingers, until they encountered the leather seat.

“Took me longer ‘an I thought,” Daryl said, shrugging, waiting for Rick’s reaction.  
“It’s beautiful,” Rick whispered finally, tearing his gaze away from the bike at last, focusing it on Daryl instead. “Looks dangerous… but beautiful.”

And it was - big and intimidating, brushed steel shining dully between darker parts, bringing that monster to life. The proportions were just right with a big and broad front, and smaller, leaner back, accentuated by thick, black tyres. There were two leather bags attached on either side of it, and Rick thought about just how handy it was to have them. If the apocalypse people were raving about on the internet was going to come one day, this bike would be prefect for it.

“Wanna ride?” Daryl asked, looking at Rick through his mess of unruly hair. _Rick wanted to kiss him._ Instead, he looked at the sky, taking in the heavy clouds hanging over the horizon, moving fast enough to forecast a pretty obvious cloudburst happening very soon.  
“Raincheck?” Rick asked, nodding his head at the sky. He wanted to go, _he really did._ This monster of a bike was something he definitely needed to sit on at least once in his life, he decided. The fact that it would be with Daryl made it even better and more enticing. But he wasn’t that keen on getting soaking wet, and if they wanted to avoid that, the ride would be awfully short.

Daryl nodded after a glance in the direction of the clouds, then shrugged.  
“Can go tomorrow if ya wanna,” he proposed, grinning when Rick gave him an enthusiastic nod.  
“Yeah… I’d love that.”  
“‘Kay. Pizza?” Daryl asked, still smiling. He got another nod from Rick. They parked Daryl’s bike in Rick’s empty garage - _“Lori took the car, too.”_ _-_ and headed inside just as the first sound of a thunderstorm could be heard. A stormy evening had officially started.

 

-&-

 

When the pizza arrived almost an hour later, it was delivered by Glenn, one of Daryl’s buddies. He had known the kid for some time now, met him while working for the old farmer, Hershel. He had barely recognized him at the door though, standing there all dripping wet and shivering. He looked so pitiful handing over the change that Rick actually mustered up some courage and invited him inside for a break, which Glenn politely declined, muttering something about meeting up with Maggie as soon as he was done delivering the last two pizzas. Smirking knowingly, Daryl told him to keep the change and have fun, before he closed the door and led Rick to the living room, a steaming box in hand.

“He’s gonna get sick,” Rick commented, sitting down on the couch, making sure to leave space for Daryl.  
“Maggie’s gonna warm him up, dontcha worry.” Daryl smirked again, placing the pizza on the table, before he plopped down next to Rick.  
“You know her, too?”  
“Yeah. She’s Hershel’s daughter, a _farm girl._ They live south from ‘ere… good folks.”  
“I take it he scored nicely with her?” Rick asked, opening the box and checking the slicing, hoping he wouldn’t have to get up again to get a knife. It all seemed fine, so he took one of the attached paper napkins and handed Daryl a slice.  
“Yeah, she’s beautiful,” Daryl confirmed with a nod, taking the offered pizza and biting into it. When he was halfway through chewing the first bite, he went on, mumbling around the mouthful.

“Thought Glenn was gonna drive me nuts, tho. I was workin’ on their barn. It was old and fallin’ apart, an’ there was a lot to do. He was helpin’ me to score some points with the old man. Drove me crazy with all that talk about ‘er.”  
“He’s in love, it happens,” Rick shrugged, trying to play it off, but there was something warm about Daryl listening to Glenn pining after that girl, something that made Rick want to kiss him senseless… Daryl, that is, not Glenn.  
“Yeah, well. He could be a little less like a lovesick puppy, if ya ask me.”  
“It’s not always a bad thing…” Rick mused aloud, which earned him a snort.  
“No, but t’ way he was doin’ it was just… _over._ Too sugary.”

Making a mental note not to go _too sugary_ on Daryl in the future, Rick went back to eating, enjoying the pizza. He was just reaching for the second slice, when his phone rang. Cursing quietly, actually a little taken aback that someone would be calling him, Rick went to pick it up. Daryl waited on the couch, watching Rick intently. He didn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but halfway through it, Daryl was ready to get up and go to him, put that damn thing on loudspeaker and jam into the conversation.

As it turned out, it was good that he resisted the urge.

Rick’s face went through every possible emotion, from shock, to fear, to anger, with all the colors on the palette in-between. By the time he hung up, his face turned pale and his eyes were wild.  
“What happened?” Daryl asked, as soon as Rick ended the call.  
“Carl… my son, he’s in a hospital… he… they called me because Lori didn’t answer… he’s been in an accident… he… oh _god…”_ Rick stuttered through the explanation, throwing the phone on the coffee table and running his fingers over his face.

Finally, Daryl shook off the surprise and got up, walked over to Rick and wrapped both arms around him.  
“We’ll go there,” Daryl assured him, then glanced at the table. They had drunk beer with that pizza, none of them could drive. “Lemme call a taxi, okay?” He asked gently, unhooking one arm from behind Rick’s back just to dig out his own phone.

 

-&-

 

Daryl wasn’t sure what was worse - the way Rick twitched relentlessly the whole ride to the hospital, haunted eyes jumping from one thing to another, or the way he almost visibly crumbled when a shrill “Dad!” sounded on the corridor as soon as they stepped in. What Daryl was sure of, however, was that he owed whatever god that was still listening to him a few long prayers, because it turned out that Carl’s injuries weren’t serious - a broken tibia and a few bruises.

Looking at Rick’s wet eyelashes and his shaking hand, Daryl dreaded to think what would have happened, had Carl’s state been even a bit worse.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Rick muttered quietly, over and over, lips pressed to the top of the boy’s head. Daryl just stood there like a silent shadow, taking in Carl’s appearance, so very much like his father’s. It was clear that the boy had missed him, too, if the way the teenager was clinging to him almost desperately was anything to go by.  
“They called you because mom wasn’t picking up… I didn’t know if you could come… I’m sorry, dad. I didn’t see that car…”  
“It’s okay. I’m here,” Rick repeated, pulling back to look at Carl, before he wrapped him in a hug again. It was awkward, with Carl sitting on the bed, a splint fitted over his leg to stop him from moving it for the time being.

“I wouldn’t leave you alone, Carl,” Rick whispered earnestly, trying to blink away the wetness gathering in his eyes.  
“I thought he saw me,” Carl mumbled, sniffing a bit himself, more from shock of the events than from pain. Daryl knew that the IV that was attached to his arm had painkillers in it, he had been through that scenario a few times himself.  
“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong…” Rick reassured the boy, still squeezing the living daylights out of him.

“Your dad is right!” An unfamiliar voice behind them made Daryl spin around quickly, eyeing the newcomers. Two police officers, a black woman and tall, ginger guy walked in, both of them smiling slightly. “Hi Carl,” the woman greeted, coming closer.  
“Michonne!” Carl almost shouted in surprise, pulling out of Rick’s embrace to wave at her. She grinned and came to stand at the end of the bed, then nodded at Rick.  
“Hey,” Rick said, smiling back at her, then shifted his gaze to Daryl standing in the corner, still eyeing the two officers warily. “Daryl, that’s Michonne and Abraham, I’ve worked with them. Michonne helped me after… everything happened.”  
“I was working that day,” Michonne confirmed with a slow nod in Daryl’s direction. “Rick got himself out, we just got him to the hospital.”  
“And now we’re here again,” the ginger - Abraham - joined in, looking from Rick to Carl. “How are you doing?”  
“My leg’s broken,” Carl said, pouting.  
“Can you tell us what happened?” Michonne asked, taking a chair next to the bed. Rick remained standing, his left hand wrapped around Carl’s shoulders protectively.

“I was going on my bike… I wanted to go across the street…” Carl started, his face scrunching up in concentration. “I didn’t see anyone coming so I went on… and then I felt him hit me in the back of my bike.” He started to shake a bit, even if he wouldn’t admit that later. Rick just shifted his hold so that he was hugging him again, his bandaged forearm hooked behind Carl’s back.

“I didn’t see him, dad, I swear…”  
“It’s okay, Carl. I believe you… It’s okay,” Rick muttered soothingly, glancing at Michonne. She was nodding solemnly, jotting something down in her notepad, before she looked up at Carl again.  
“Your dad _is_ right, Carl. The man that hit your bike had his headlights broken, so there was no way you could have seen him.”  
“Really?” Carl sniffed out, then pulled away to blink at her.  
“Really. He’s probably going to go to jail, too.”  
“What?” Carl gasped, his gaze shifting from Michonne to Rick. “But I’m fine…”  
“Your leg is broken, buddy,” Rick reminded him gently, tilting his head and looking pointedly at the splint. “That’s criminal offence.”  
“Oh… I didn’t know…” Carl said, sounding almost sorry for the guy who was driving in the dark with no working headlights. “Is that man alright?”  
“Yeah, he wasn’t injured,” Michonne supplied, giving Rick a look.

Rick knew that look, he had seen it on her face a few times when they had still been working together and Carl had done something to be proud of. It was a well-earned look, too, Rick reckoned - even being hurt himself, Carl still looked out for others.

He wanted to tell that to Carl, wanted to voice aloud just how proud his son had made him.

_He didn’t have the time to do so._

Before he could even open his mouth, there was a loud voice behind them, practically shouting Carl’s name. Rick stiffened, recognizing the owner of the voice, then turned around slowly, spotting a dark-haired woman standing in the doorway.  
“Rick?”  
“Lori.”

Somehow, all the frustration and loneliness Rick had felt, had turned into cold anger overtime. It bubbled to the surface now, flowing out of him in almost palpable waves, until the whole room around them seemed freezing. Noticing Rick’s hard, icy stare, Daryl was surprised that he couldn’t see his breath in front of his face yet.

“What are you doing here?” Lori asked, her tone almost accusing. Rick seethed quietly.  
“He was called, because you didn’t pick up your phone,” Daryl interjected, shooting a quick look in Rick’s direction, before he dragged his eyes back to the woman.  
“And who are _you?”_ Lori asked, turning around and fixing him with a glare. Daryl squinted at her.  
“‘M Daryl - ” he started, but Rick interrupted him suddenly, his tone icy.  
“He’s my friend, and it’s none of your business, Lor.”  
“Oh, isn’t it?” She turned to him sharply. “Can we talk outside for a moment?”

After Rick’s court nod, they both walked out of the room, leaving Carl, Daryl, and the two officers. Daryl shrugged, then walked closer to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. Carl eyed him, then glanced at the door.  
“She’s pissed,” he commented quietly. Daryl snorted.  
“Yeah, she sounded like she was…”  
“So… you’re my dad’s friend?”  
“Yeah, ‘m Daryl,” he mumbled, raising his hand up to his mouth out of habit, then lowering it again before he had a chance to close his teeth over the thumbnail. It was already too abused.  
“How did you meet him?” Carl asked, frowning. “Did he start going out again?”  
“He did that before?” Daryl’s eyes widened a bit in surprise.

He knew all about Rick’s reservations and where they had come from, but Rick didn’t strike him as the type of guy who would spend his evenings out in the town. He was the family type, after all…  
“Not really… but he did spend a night out with uncle Shane every now and then…”  
“Oh… nah. Our friend told me ‘at he needed help in t’ house, so I stepped by one day.”  
“It’s cool,” Carl said, nodding. “He needs a friend… now that mom and I live with uncle Shane.” He looked sad saying this, something uncharacteristically adult painted across his features… Daryl felt a shiver rattling his spine.

_Even Carl could see how lonely Rick was… and they hadn’t probably seen each other in a couple of months…_

“Dontcha worry, kid, I got ‘im,” Daryl reassured, winking at him, trying to lighten up the mood. Carl smiled at him, raising one hand, fingers curled in a fist. Daryl smirked, then bumped it with his own fist.

“Alright, I think it’s time for us,” Abraham spoke, standing up. Michonne followed him, nodding at Carl and Daryl. “We’ll be in contact. We’ll let Rick know how it goes, too.”  
“Thanks,” Daryl muttered, then watched as they walked out. Soon after, Rick stepped back into the room. He walked straight to Carl and gave him a hug.

“The doctors say they’re gonna put your leg in a cast… you can pick what color you want,” Rick announced, putting on a smile. Daryl had known him long enough to see that it was fake.  
“Cool. Can I get a green one?” Carl asked, his gaze flickering to the doctor that had stepped in just after Rick.  
“Sure. Why green, though?” She asked. She was young, and had that type of smile that told Daryl she was witty as hell. His eyes went to her nametag. _Tara Chambler._  
“Hulk.” Carl grinned when she gave an exasperated groan.  
“Come on, man, _Hulk?”_  
“Yeah. He’s cool,” Carl replied, a spark in his eyes.  
“Not as cool as Hawkeye.”  
_“Hawkeye?_ You’ve got to be joking!” He gasped, scandalized.

Before they could get into a real banter about fantasy superheroes, Rick interrupted them.  
“I need to go, Carl. But I’ll step by next week to see how you’re doing, okay?” He said quietly. Carl nodded, looking suddenly sad. It broke Daryl’s heart a little to see just how bad it affected the both of them, and he made a mental note to get those two to spend some time together.  
“O-kay…” the teenager replied hesitantly. “Oh, hey! There’s a new Avengers movie next week, we could all go to the cinema!” Feeling proud of his idea, Carl looked up at Rick with big, puppy eyes. Rick frowned.  
“All of us? You know your mother hates those movies…” he replied, sounding skeptical.  
“No… you, me, and _Daryl,”_ Carl said, nodding at Daryl. “It would be fun!”  
“Okay… we’ll see. For now, you have to go and get that leg into a cast, okay?”  
“A _green_ cast,” Carl replied, giving Rick a hug. Tara groaned in the background, then helped him to get off the bed and into a wheelchair.

When they exited the room, quarreling over who the best of the superheroes was, Daryl saw Lori join them. He looked at Rick, but the man just shook his head at him sadly. None of them acknowledged wetness gathering at the corners of Rick’s eyes. Silently, they went back home.

 

-&-

 

When they were once again in Rick’s house, Daryl went to shower first, prompted by Rick’s quietly muttered _“need to think”._ He washed himself quickly, then got into bed - _Rick’s_ bed - intent on waiting for Rick to join him when he was done putting things together in his head. It took a lot longer than he anticipated and, by the time Rick finally joined him, Daryl was already asleep.

It was well after midnight when Rick lifted the blanket and climbed into bed, pressing himself to Daryl’s right side and pushing his face into Daryl’s neck, waking him up inadvertently. The sigh Rick let out sounded so relaxed that it almost lulled Daryl back into his peaceful sleep. Half-awake, he wrapped his arm around Rick’s shoulders to keep him at his side. Daryl was getting ready to drift off again, when he felt Rick gingerly placing his arm - his _right arm_ \- across his stomach. He would have grinned happily if he hadn’t been on the brink of sleep. As it was, Daryl just hummed, hoping Rick would get the message.

As soon as he made a sound, however, Daryl could feel the weight lifting, and the arm disappeared from his chest. He opened his eyes, blinked blearily in the near-darkness around them, and looked to the side. Rick leaned away from him a bit - eyes closed - and tucked his damaged arm between them. Daryl frowned.  
“Rick?” He rasped, voice heavy with sleep. Rick jerked his head ‘no’ and settled down on the pillow right next to Daryl’s shoulder.

Just as he was about to ask if anything was wrong, Rick turned around suddenly, his back to Daryl.  
“Rick?” He asked again, a bit more awake.  
“Sorry. Didn’t want to wake you,” Rick murmured. He sounded tired, which only made Daryl wonder why hadn’t he come to bed sooner. He knew Rick had taken a shower - he smelled of his shower gel - and that he had been in the living room for a while, judging by the way his hair and beard seemed dry by now. Daryl confirmed that by running his fingers over Rick’s arm, just under the sleeve of his t-shirt - the skin was completely dry. He only hoped Rick hadn’t been trying to beat his insomnia with alcohol. He knew now that Rick wasn’t the type to do that, but he was also aware that people would do a lot in blind desperation.

Like this, lying on his side, curled away from Daryl, Rick seemed to be buzzing with emotions. Maybe it was the day they had just had, maybe it was just Rick being tired - Daryl didn’t know. He could bet it was all of that combined, with some things from Rick’s past coming up in his mind again, throwing him for a loop.

Not being able to stand all the silent, negative energy radiating from Rick, Daryl turned to him and, after a bit of consideration, spooned up behind him. Rick’s skin smelled of strawberries and Daryl couldn’t help himself when he tucked his nose into Rick’s neck and inhaled. It was so sweet it made him want to hold Rick close, and that’s precisely what he did. One hand sneaking around Rick’s waist, his other slipping between Rick’s neck and the pillow he was lying on - Daryl pressed them together from head to toe. His fingers skimmed down Rick’s chest and his wrist brushed over the bandage Rick was still wearing.

_It was damp._

Daryl’s eyes snapped open and he stared at the back of Rick’s neck, the fuzz of short hair close enough that it was blurry. Rick practically froze in his arms - his breathing stuttering and his heart beating hard enough to be felt even through his abdomen. Daryl carefully maneuvered his hand, so that he could brush his fingers over the entirety of the bandage and assess the situation. The whole of it was damp in a way that told Daryl it had been wet at some point during that evening. Feeling a lot more awake now, Daryl started to think about the cause. He knew Rick unwrapped his arm when he was showering, so that must have happened sometime after.

As if he had heard Daryl’s thoughts, Rick answered the unspoken question in a low voice.  
“Got it wet in the kitchen,” he explained and Daryl’s frown deepened. It had clearly been wet for long enough that it had started to dry in a few places already.  
“Should take it off,” Daryl prompted, wrapping his fingers around Rick’s forearm, just where the bandage ended. “‘S bad for the skin to keep it wet.” But Rick just shook his head, and Daryl could hear the rustle of his beard against the pillow - it was loud in the otherwise quiet room. Neither of them said anything for a long time, Rick choking up on words that just wouldn’t come out, and Daryl waiting for them anyway.

When it looked like Rick started to lose that battle, Daryl finally opened his mouth.  
“Why?” He asked, even though he had a pretty good idea what the reason was. Today’s encounter in the hospital must have brought up Rick’s disability to the front of his mind again - after all, it was the main reason his wife had given for leaving him.

“Rick?”  
Rick jerked his head to the side again.  
“I can’t.” His voice was barely a whisper, but Daryl heard it clearly. He knew it had to be hard for him, but he also knew that keeping the damp bandage on was a stupid move. He had gone through that with Merle, when his brother couldn’t have been assed to change it after he had taken a dive in his then-date’s swimming pool. The skin in the wrist area was so fragile that, scars or no scars, it would get irritated easily.

Knowing Rick wouldn’t do it himself, Daryl decided to help him. He moved his hands slowly, blindly looking for the end of the bandage, taking it out from behind the edge where it had been tucked in. Rick was stiff as a board against him, but he didn’t protest, didn’t _stop_ Daryl, and Daryl took it as a good sign.  
  
“’S alright,” he reassured, unwrapping Rick’s wrist carefully. It took him less time than he anticipated, and soon, he was balling up the still-damp strip of gauze and chucking it to the side, not really caring where it landed. Rick’s stiffness gave way to a slight shivering, and Daryl could bet his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. He placed his palm on Rick’s damaged wrist gingerly, feeling the cold skin there warming quickly to his touch.

Rick gave a small, barely-there whimper, and Daryl thought that enough was enough. He hated that Rick still had his back to him, so he let go of Rick’s forearm and grabbed his left shoulder. Gently, he tugged Rick to him, prompting him to turn around. There was a bit of resistance on Rick’s part, but it lasted only for the entirety of three seconds, before he was shuffling and shifting. When he faced Daryl - breathing shallow, eyes still closed - Rick tucked his arm between their bodies. Daryl reached with one hand, cupped his fingers around Rick’s jaw and tilted his head slightly.  
“Rick,” he whispered, waiting for Rick to open his eyes. It took a longer moment, but Rick finally did, glancing at Daryl for the briefest of moments, before he averted his gaze. It was just long enough to let Daryl catch his eyes in the near-darkness around them.

“‘S alright,” Daryl said again and Rick nodded, still not looking at him, before he leaned in and pushed his face into Daryl’s neck. The position he had put himself in must have been hellishly uncomfortable with Rick’s arm jammed between them, so Daryl took hold of Rick’s elbow and tugged it away. Slowly but decidedly, he put Rick’s arm behind his own back and shuffled a bit closer, pressing them together again and making Rick hug him.

Daryl fell asleep only when he felt Rick finally settling down and his hold tightening around Daryl’s waist.

 

-&-

 

When Daryl woke up in the morning, it was to the rumble of thunder that shook the whole house. The old construction rattled and groaned, and Daryl grunted, too, burying himself further in the warmth of the comforter. Rick was still next to him, awake, going by the way he adjusted his hold when Daryl shifted a bit.

They were still tangled together, with Rick’s shortened beard scratching pleasantly over Daryl’s shoulder and Rick’s arms wrapped all around him. Daryl had his own hands hooked behind Rick’s back, keeping him close during the night, and Daryl couldn’t help but think just how perfect it all was. He hummed in contentment, then kissed the first part of Rick he could reach, which turned out to be Rick’s chest.

The soft sigh he received was a good enough payoff for the mouthful of t-shirt he had gotten.

“‘S early,” Daryl mumbled, stifling a yawn. Rick nodded softly, just enough to be felt by Daryl.  
“Yeah… ‘round six.” Rick’s voice was scratchy, deep, and just a bit croaky. It reminded Daryl about the time when they had first met, when Rick hadn’t been used to talking to others. His throat had the same quality that Daryl’s usually had after chain-smoking half a pack.  
“Should sleep some more,” he prompted. He stifled another yawn, then groaned, feeling that something was aligned weird in his spine. Stretching sounded really good right then and there, but he didn’t want to let Rick go even for a second.

Feeling a bit silly, Daryl tried to stretch while still holding Rick close. He ended up hugging him even tighter, then relaxing back into the bedding with a long, satisfied exhale. He felt Rick shake, so he craned his neck and leaned back a bit to look at him, eyes narrowed.

Rick had the biggest smile Daryl had ever seen. It was almost suspicious.  
“What?”  
“I had a cat once… he used to do that, too,” Rick answered, biting his lip to stop his grin from spreading. His eyes had a happy spark in them, his whole face, tired as it was after a pretty sleepless night, was almost glowing with mirth. “Mostly when he was ready to sleep and I was petting him. He would stretch and hold my hand close like that…” Rick went on explaining, still grinning as if Daryl reminded him about something incredibly funny.

Suddenly, Daryl realized that he didn’t care. _If being compared to a cat was what made Rick smile like that, he could definitely live with it._ He stretched again, too, just to hear Rick huff out a quiet laugh. Daryl pressed his own smile into Rick’s neck.

And then, something absolutely magical happened - Rick shuffled around a bit, leaned back, then ducked his head, and before Daryl really knew what was going on, Rick’s lips were touching his, kissing him firmly, Rick’s tongue sneaking into Daryl’s mouth curiously. They hadn’t done anything other than careful pecks and tight hugs since their shared moment on the couch, and the fact that Rick started it this time made Daryl feel a little light-headed.

He moaned into Rick’s mouth, letting himself be pushed onto his back, feeling himself getting hard surprisingly quickly when Rick climbed on top of him. They never broke their kiss, and soon, Rick’s knees were bracketing Daryl’s hips, squeezing them tightly, as Rick grunted and groaned above him, keeping himself up on his right forearm, cradling Daryl’s cheek with his left hand. The position he had put himself in proved that Rick’s damaged limb could still be useful, and Daryl wondered briefly if Rick was even aware of that. He didn’t have much time to think on that, though, for in the next moment, Rick started to rock gently on top of him, a slow swaying motion that brought their groins together and made white-hot sparks travel down their spines, lighting up fire in their bellies.

“Rick…” Daryl whispered, when he felt Rick’s hand leave his face and travel lower, fingers rubbing down his chest, warm through the material of the t-shirt. They skimmed over his ribs and went lower, causing Daryl to shiver, before they settled on the waistband of his sweats.  
“I’m… I _was_ right-handed,” Rick mumbled out, looking up at him sheepishly. “Not sure if that’s gonna be any good,” he added, glancing down between them, to where Daryl’s hard length could be clearly seen tenting the material of his pants.  
“‘M sure ya could just look at me, an’ I woulda go off like a fuckin’ teenager,” Daryl admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed about just how much he wanted this man. There was something about Rick’s eyes, so blue they seemed almost translucent in the dim light of that stormy morning, that could make him come in his pants like a newbie.

_He wouldn’t even be sorry about it later…_

_“Jesus…”_ Daryl breathed out, his back arching as much as it could with the added weight on his hips, when Rick slipped his left hand inside the sweats and wrapped his fingers around his cock. Rick’s palm was warm, delicate, and it fitted around Daryl _perfectly._ “Fuck! Rick, ‘m really not gonna last…”  
“I don’t want you to,” Rick answered, diving down for another kiss, shutting Daryl up. He started to move his hand, too, a few slow strokes, evidently unpracticed, but _oh so fucking good…_

Daryl was aware that he was making some unintelligible sounds, but he couldn’t care less, not when Rick gained confidence and speed with every move. Soon, he was jerking him off in earnest, swallowing every noise that left Daryl’s mouth, sucking the air right out of his lungs, until Daryl felt dizzy with it. He broke the kiss, arching his head back, which Rick took as an invitation to lick and suck at his neck. Rick’s beard scratched the delicate skin over Daryl’s jugular, and he couldn’t stop himself from getting closer and closer, until he was shaking and twitching under Rick, spilling over his fingers and gasping like a shored fish. He might have shouted something that loosely resembled Rick’s name, but he wasn’t sure… he _couldn’t be,_ not with all that pleasure coursing through him and making him stupid.

Once the world stopped dancing around him and he gulped in some much needed air, Daryl was aware of two things - Rick’s hand was still on his length, just holding his softening cock gently… and Rick wasn’t moving anymore, seemingly collapsed on top of him, his breathing heavy and body shivering.  
“Rick?” He rasped out, swallowing through the dryness in his throat.  
_“Daryl…”_ it was a sigh, flowing right into Daryl’s ear, sated and warm, sweet and rich like hot chocolate.

_It sounded suspiciously satisfied._

Getting back some of his motor skills took Daryl a few moments, but once he did, he let one of his hands travel to Rick’s hips, only to be stopped by a quiet “nah.” Pulling back, Rick kept his gaze down, staring at Daryl’s chest. Daryl frowned when he saw a furious blush making his cheeks pink.  
“Ya alright?” He asked, squinting at Rick, who nodded, glancing up at Daryl, then looking between them. There was this sheepish expression on his face, a bit embarrassed, a bit happy…

Daryl dragged his gaze down, then took in a sharp breath when he spotted a dark patch on the front of Rick’s sweatpants.  
“Really?” He asked, surprised, his head spinning when all the blood rushed to his cock once more. There was no way he would get it up that soon, but the sole idea of Rick coming untouched was hot enough to make his dick twitch in a feeble attempt at getting hard. Rick must have felt it - his hand was still wrapped around Daryl - and he smiled shyly, then took his hand out of Daryl’s pants finally. His fingers were wet and glistening, and Daryl licked his lips thinking about cleaning them up, sucking himself off of Rick’s hand…

He didn’t get a chance, for Rick got up suddenly, then padded softly to the bathroom. Hearing the water splashing in the sink, Daryl promised himself that next time, he wouldn’t wait.

 

-&-

 

By the time they had had some breakfast, the skies had already cleared a bit, and the storms had gone away, giving way to the brilliant blue and small fluffy clouds. It looked like the day was going to be a good one, and Daryl couldn’t stop himself from telling Rick about his plan.

They were seated in the kitchen, Daryl drinking his morning coffee, Rick sipping from a glass of tea. They had showered and changed their clothes, Rick’s wrist had been re-wrapped again, and it all looked like any other, ordinary morning. It was quiet, peaceful, and Daryl had a smile on his face when he finally started to talk.  
“I got this friend, Jesus…” he murmured, catching Rick’s attention. Rick raised his eyebrows in question, but other than that, he remained as he had been. “He’s doin’ this… _thing,_ where he gets on his bike and goes around town to give people gifts…” Daryl went on, watching Rick closely.  
“That’s nice of him,” Rick commented, then went back to his tea.  
“Yeah, yeah. He’s usually goin’ with his friends, Aaron and Eric, though. They’ve got caught up at work, some kinda big project. Anyway… he’s two people short,” Daryl explained, his gaze focused on Rick. There was a pause, and then -

“You want to go.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. _Good._  
“Want _us_ to go,” Daryl corrected, getting back to his coffee, giving Rick some time to think about it. “If ya want, of course.” He hoped Rick would - it would be a nice way to get him out of the house and maybe do something fun that could put a smile on his face…  
“I’ll think about it, okay?” Rick said hesitantly, glancing at him above the rim of his cup. Daryl nodded, then went to finish his coffee.

As it turned out, by the time they were done with their leisure breakfast, Rick had already decided. With a small and quiet “You sure it’s a good idea?”, accompanied by a meaningful glimpse at his missing hand, he allowed Daryl to text his friend and notify him about the two of them coming along.

It took them an hour to pick the most beautiful flowers - mostly the wild growing ones - and tie them into small bouquets. They were astonishing, even when they put them into a few jars halfway-filled with water and squished those into Daryl’s saddle bags.

It took them another half an hour to get ready… well, it took _Rick_ another half an hour to get ready, Daryl was good to go after ten minutes. The biggest problem for Rick was no riding gear - something Daryl vowed to change as soon as possible. Just thinking about Rick in leather pants was enough to make his mouth water…

Shaking himself out of his daydreaming, Daryl went to the bike to dig a spare helmet out from the compartment under the saddle. He fixed his own helmet, then waited for Rick to come out.

He had to stop himself from whistling when Rick finally did. He looked amazing, walking up to him in a pair of skinny black jeans and the bluest button up in the existence of shirts. His sleeves were rolled up, his cowboy boots thumping against the driveway, and Daryl couldn’t look away if he tried. Wordlessly, he helped Rick put on his helmet - a pretty tamed full-face affair, then made sure it fit him just right. Smiling to himself, he straddled the bike, patting the free space behind him invitingly. Rick looked concerned for a moment, glancing at Daryl just once, before he shrugged and sat behind him, knees bracketing Daryl’s hips. With the flowers in the bags it was a tight fit, but somehow they managed to find a comfortable position.

With a grin, Daryl started the bike, snorting out a laugh when Rick, surprised, jumped behind him, both arms wrapping around Daryl’s waist. Before Daryl could enjoy his closeness, however, Rick seemed to remind himself that they were in public, and drew back a bit, leaning away from him. Daryl didn’t really like that plan, so he reached behind, grabbed Rick’s arms, and placed them firmly around his waist again, squeezing to tell Rick that they were supposed to stay there. He felt a nod - Rick’s helmet dragging against the leather of Daryl’s vest - so he let go of Rick’s arms, happy when they continued to encircle his middle tightly. He glanced down briefly, only to see Rick’s bandaged wrist sitting in stark contrast to his own dark clothes, then closed the windshield of his helmet and rolled the bike out on the road.

The first mile was slow, mostly to let Daryl feel Rick out - not everyone was good at riding, well… _bitch_ for the first time. Thankfully, it seemed like Rick was a natural at this, going by the way he leaned in on the corners at just the same time and angle as Daryl did. It was a true pleasure to have him on his bike, and Daryl sped up a little after the first mile, then again after another. Soon, they were going just under the speed limit, accelerating only to feel the thrill of it, not really in any hurry to get to Jesus’ house.

When they arrived there finally, Rick got off the bike on almost shaky legs. Daryl huffed out a laugh, then took off his helmet, helping Rick to do the same. They walked up to the modern building that was Jesus’ home, smiling like a couple of teenagers after their first ride in their dad’s car.

“Daryl!” Jesus welcomed them with a big grin and open arms. “Nice to see you finally! And you must be Rick! Pleasure!” He turned to Rick and gave him a hug, just like he had done with Daryl. Admittedly, that was the first time Rick had seen anyone hug Daryl - other than himself - but then, they didn’t really go out to meet each other’s friends. Forcing on a smile, hoping it would merge into something genuine soon, Rick got through Jesus’ small talk, absentmindedly following him with his gaze when the man started to collect things he wanted to take with him.

“So… where are we going exactly?” Rick asked at one point, to which Jesus gave him a mischievous look and sparkling eyes. There was something pretty mysterious about this guy, but one was clear - he seemed like a nice, good-natured man. Rick could try to get along with that.  
“It’s a surprise,” Jesus muttered in the end, putting on his own helmet. Rick and Daryl followed, before they hopped on their bike. Rick had a ridiculous urge to press his lips against the wings stitched to the back of Daryl’s vest that were currently taking up most of his vision. It was a good thing the windshield made it impossible to do so. Clearing his throat, he wrapped his hands again around Daryl’s waist, and soon, they were off again, meandering through traffic.

 

-&-

 

They stopped at every intersection where their light was red, pulled up to any car that was there and gifted the driver with a bouquet of flowers. Jesus had a few dozens of roses on his bike, and he went to both, girls _and_ guys. Daryl stuck to the girls, especially if they had kids inside their cars. Sometime during their gifting, they changed their routine, and Rick got a more active part. They would pull up to a car, Daryl would tap the window and, after it was rolled down, he would push his bike a bit forward and let Rick give people flowers. They said every variation of “have a nice day” that they could think of, always adding the “ma’am” or “sir” just to be polite. Jesus had said that it brought good name to bikers. Rick suspected they did it only because they liked to be nice to others, and needed to disguise it as good PR just so they wouldn’t be called some idiotic crap by weird people.

After three hours of driving around and handing out flowers, they had finally called it a day and went down the road with Jesus leading the way. Rick was a bit surprised when they didn’t take the first turn that would have taken them home, opting instead to go straight and out of the town.  
“Where are we going?” He asked, mildly curious. Daryl turned his head a bit, keeping one eye on the road, and shouted his response.  
“A surprise!”

 

-&-

 

A rally. _No,_ a _moto_ rally, complete with a small fair, a tiny camping side and a few food trucks. Rick took off his helmet - he had gotten good at this sometime earlier that day - then looked around, blinking wildly. There were people _everywhere,_ young and old, men and women… even their _pets._ Who the hell took a dog _riding?_  
“What are we _doing_ here?” He asked, astonished. Daryl shrugged, then looked down.  
“Thought ya may like to take a break after all tha’ flower givin’,” he mumbled. Rick frowned, glancing at one of the people who passed them by. The guy was tall and well-built, he had a black bandana on his head and a set of expensive-looking leather pants on. He looked at the three of them, then at Daryl’s bike.  
“She’s nice, man!” He nodded, then went on his merry way, whistling something under his nose.  
“Thanks, dude!” Daryl shouted back, smiling. He turned to Rick. “Well?”

There was something so happy in his shining eyes that Rick couldn’t help himself.  
“Okay. Wanna eat something first, though. And then we can take a walk, you’ll show me all of the best bikes. Deal?”  
“Fuck yeah! Come on!”

 

-&-

 

Three hours later, they were full of burritos, diet coke and chocolate. The sun was slowly setting, the day coming to an end. Not that Rick noticed, he was too entranced by a stitching machine in one of the tents in the fair area. There were all kinds of sellers there, people who could be commissioned to make a custom print or artwork on your bike. There were tattoo artists and leather workers… there was also one guy that had this damn machine that had hypnotized Rick into staring at it stupidly for the past fifteen minutes, eyes following the needles as they made a perfect picture of a lion on the back of one of the jackets people could buy there.

He didn’t even feel when he started to get cold, and it wasn’t until Daryl’s hand wrapped around his that he felt the chill of the air.  
“Shit, yer freezin’,” Daryl commented, looking down at their joined hands. Rick glanced down, too, but he quickly met Daryl’s gaze, a question evident in his concerned eyes. Daryl read him perfectly, as always. “Relax, there’s all sorts of people ‘ere. We’re not the only ones,” he smirked, then tilted his head at a rather dangerously-looking couple of muscled guys, standing a few feet away with their fingers entwined.  
“Didn’t think you’d want this,” Rick muttered, squeezing Daryl’s hand. Daryl shrugged.  
“‘S different ‘ere. Feels like mah childhood home sometimes… not that I had that, either.”

He let Rick squeeze his hand one more time, then stepped away, pulling him along.  
“Now, ‘bout ya freezin’ yer ass off…” he gruffed out, leading Rick to the clothes rack standing in one of the corners. He browsed through it, taking jackets off the rack and bringing them to Rick’s chest, as if trying to decide which would be good. Rick scoffed.  
“The hell are you doing?” He asked, but he could feel a smile forming on his lips nevertheless. Daryl shrugged.  
“Ya ain’t gonna ride in a _shirt,_ Rick. Next time we’re goin’ out ya need to have some proper clothes. We’re startin’ with a good jacket.” Saying that, he pulled something brown from the back of the rack, then brought it up.

It was a dark brown suede coat which was lined with sheep fur. Rick let his mouth fall open in astonishment - while he wasn’t really sure about the black, heavy-looking leather, this one was actually beautiful. It didn’t scream _danger_ and _law-breaking_ immediately, but there was something edgy to it, something that made Rick reach out and touch it with his left hand, skimming his fingers over the plush inside it gently.  
“We have a winner,” Daryl said, grinning, then took it off the hanger. Rick didn’t really have the time - or the heart - to protest when Daryl handed it to him, demanding he tried it on. It fit perfectly, it was just the right size, and, after a small adjustment, the sleeve ended right at his damaged wrist, covering just enough to make him feel comfortable.

It wasn’t a surprise that they bought it five minutes later. What was a surprise, however, was that Daryl handed it over to the machine guy, then whispered a few words to him. With a smile, the guy nodded, eyed Rick, then went back to work.

After learning that it would be ready in two hours - there was a line of customers waiting already - Rick and Daryl went to look at the motorcycles some more.

 

-&-

 

Just before they were ready to head back home - after having politely declined Jesus’ offer to stay the night in his tent - they went back to collect Rick’s new coat. The guy gave it to them with a grin which only grew bigger the more Rick stared at the offered piece of clothing. And _stare_ he did.

The coat was handed to them unfolded, with the back clearly visible. There, in the middle of it, a big wolf’s head gazed right at them, the muzzle stuck in a permanent snarl, stitched with cream colored thread that shone a bit in the dim light inside the tent. Daryl nodded, satisfied, and gave the guy the cash.

_Rick just stared._

“So… whaddya think?” Daryl asked after a full minute, his eyes following Rick’s fingers as they traced the pattern carefully, almost reverently. Rick didn’t really have words, other than a quiet but heartfelt “thank you” that he whispered right into Daryl’s ear, throwing caution to the wind and hugging him tightly. Daryl had a few words of his own to whisper to him, which he did, as low and growly as he could, just after Rick had put the coat on.  
“‘M gonna fuck ya, soon as we get home.” He pressed himself tightly against Rick, just for a brief moment, just to let Rick feel exactly what was happening below his waist when he looked at him wearing his new wolf coat. He felt a certain amount of pride when Rick had to bite his lip to stop any sounds from escaping.

With one more fiery look, they went to find Daryl’s bike, then got ready for the trip back.

 

-&-

 

There was something curious about the way the road back always seemed shorter than the initial trip. Rick could have sworn that it had taken them forever getting to the rally, even taking the time they had been handing out flowers out of the equation.

On the other hand, the time-disturbance might have been Daryl’s almost-speeding, trying to get them home as soon as possible.

Rick could certainly go with that plan, so he didn’t dare complaining, hugging Daryl more tightly and holding on for the ride. Soon enough, they were pulling up in front of his house, getting off the bike and sharing a fierce kiss as soon as their helmets were off. Rick was ready to try and walk backwards, just to keep Daryl’s mouth on his own but, to his surprise, Daryl pulled back and let him go first. _Only later did it occur to Rick that he had done it just to admire Rick in his newly acquired coat._

The coat that he tried to take off when they walked inside, only to be stopped by Daryl’s hands pausing his movements.  
“Don’t?” It was a low whisper, a small question, and Rick nodded, suddenly realizing what Daryl had in mind. He swallowed heavily then moved on, walking to the bedroom. Daryl followed him, hands planted firmly on Rick’s hips, fingers slipping just under the edge of the soft suede. Somehow, they made it to the bed, stumbling only a handful of times. Feeling energized and happy after the day they’d had, Rick let Daryl turn him around and push him on the bed, fusing their lips together when Daryl crawled over him and moved them both into a more comfortable position.

When Daryl’s hands traveled to his pants, Rick had a brief moment of hesitation. _Of course Daryl caught it._  
“Ya okay?” He asked, leaning back a bit and fixing Rick with a questioning stare. Rick bit his lip. He _was_ okay, he felt better than he had felt during the whole year… but there was some kind of overwhelming seriousness in what they were about to do, some kind of gravitational force that pulled Rick down and made it hard to breathe suddenly. He looked at Daryl, trying to talk himself out of whatever failure his mind tried to cook up for him.

“Rick?” Daryl asked, concerned, and Rick remembered that he was supposed to answer.  
“I’m fine… I just… It’s been a while,” he muttered quietly, averting his gaze.  
“How long?” Daryl frowned, his hands pausing in their quest to get inside Rick’s pants. He saw Rick shrug a little, his jaw tensing.  
“Not since Sh- not since the academy.”

While Daryl was practically sure that the name Rick had almost spoken was _Shane,_ he didn’t want to get into that particular topic. He wanted to make Rick feel good, wanted to make them both feel good, and Rick’s bastard of a friend had no place here tonight.  
“‘S okay… we don’t have to…” he said instead, shifting his palms so that his fingers could sneak between the shirt and the waist of Rick’s pants, and rub along the warm skin he found there. The full-bodied shiver that went through Rick made him smile softly.  
“No.” Rick shook his head, finally looking at him again. “I _want_ to, I just…”  
“Go slow?”  
“Yeah.” Rick nodded, biting his lip again.  
“Okay,” Daryl agreed, leaning in to kiss him delicately.

His hands got busy at Rick’s belt and fly once again, but before he could tug them down Rick’s long legs, Daryl had to pause. He felt way too hot with all his clothes on, so he started to pull them off. By the time he was halfway done disrobing, Daryl noticed Rick’s eyes and swallowed heavily at the unadulterated lust shining in them. They followed his every movement, and Daryl slowed down his pace, just to give Rick all the eye-candy he wanted.

Once done, he leaned back over Rick, then reached for the wolf coat he was wearing.  
“Ya can take ‘t off, yer gonna get hot,” he proposed, tugging at the suede gently. Rick shook his head again.  
“You wanted…” Rick started, but trailed off, not really able to put the jumble of thoughts in his head into proper words. He knew Daryl was right, he would definitely get too hot wearing all those layers. _He still wanted to please Daryl by wearing it, though…_

After a brief consideration, Rick managed to come up with a solution. He sat up a bit, tugged the coat off, then started on his shirt. Daryl helped him eagerly, undoing the buttons and dragging his mouth over every inch of newly exposed skin. Rick left him to the task halfway through, throwing his head back with a moan when Daryl attached himself to one of his nipples and sucked hard. He arched his back, propping himself on the bed with his left hand, raising his right arm to grip at Daryl’s hair. His mistake almost made him jerk away when, instead of fingers twisting in dark bangs, Rick had only gotten zero response from his nonexistent hand.

_Almost._

Daryl didn’t let him think about it for too long, ducking his head and twisting around a bit, scraping his teeth over Rick’s ribs, making him groan when electric pleasure shot down his spine. Correcting himself, Rick held Daryl close with his forearm, feeling surprisingly light-headed when Daryl hummed in response and pushed the shirt off of his shoulders. Rick’s pants and underwear were next, and Daryl didn’t waste even the tiniest of moments on them. He pulled them down Rick’s legs decidedly, ignoring all the skin on display in favor of Rick’s mouth, attacking it with his own and letting his tongue into play. He leaned away only when Rick gave a grunt and tilted his head to the side, his left hand busy, reaching for the coat. Daryl grinned, then helped him put it on again, his fingers lingering between the suede and Rick’s bare chest.

Like this, with cream-colored fur lining his naked skin, Rick looked good enough to eat, and Daryl gasped at the sudden onslaught of arousal. He shifted his gaze down, only now letting himself take Rick in in all his glory, his hard cock jutting out between the pale thighs. Licking his lips, Daryl wrapped one hand around the shaft and rubbed it lightly, pumping it slowly a few times. When the head of it started to get damp, Daryl swiped his thumb through the moisture, delighting in the way Rick collapsed back on the bed with a moan.  
“Fuuuck,” Rick breathed out, stretching the word until it had three syllables. Daryl smirked, then repeated his actions, diving in and pressing his lips to Rick’s neck while his hand was busy below the waist.

“Ya got somethin’?” He murmured against the delicate skin, kissing the spot where Rick’s beard ended, pushing his nose against the furry collar of the jacket. Rick tensed a bit, then shifted, shaking his head carefully not to dislodge Daryl’s mouth from its place just below his jaw.  
“No, I- _shit,_ I didn’t exactly _plan_ this…” He groaned at the end, hips rocking up into Daryl’s fist.  
“Good thing I did… gotta get it, tho,” Daryl gruffed, then pulled away, leaving Rick alone for a moment. He went around the bed and picked up his jacket, then dug into one of the pockets. A few seconds, and he was back, what had to be the tiniest bottle of lube in the history of sex clutched tightly in one hand, a silver packet in the other. Rick bit his lip seeing this, gaze focused on the condom package. Daryl frowned, but before he could even open his mouth to ask, Rick was already answering.

“I’m clean,” he said, sounding very serious all at once. “Got tested after… you know.” Daryl nodded hearing that. Then, he shrugged.  
“‘M clean, too. After mah brother started dealin’ for the big bosses I quit drugs and got tested later to be sure… ” Daryl admitted, looking down at the silver packet. Rick reached out and took it from him, then let it fall to the floor. There was something about using rubber that seemed too clean to Rick, too _clinical._ He liked the idea of Daryl with no barriers a lot more, and, going by the way Daryl kissed him a moment later, the idea was equally appealing to him.

Time got wonky after that. It could have been minutes or decades, Rick had no way of telling. They were busy touching each other, stealing their breath out of overworking lungs, and suddenly, Daryl was unscrewing the bottle and pouring lube on his fingers, catching Rick’s eyes when he did. He held Rick’s gaze and let his hand travel low between them, until it rested against Rick’s opening. A few seconds passed - could have been eons - while Daryl rubbed the tight entrance slowly, before he finally pressed inside, not stopping until Rick had his eyes shut and teeth bared. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t _burn_ exactly. The sensation was as weird as Rick had remembered, but somehow it felt strangely good just because it was _Daryl._

Daryl with his finger sliding in and out of his ass. Daryl getting ready to _fuck him._

_Jesus Christ._

Now, when Rick knew that he could do it, when Daryl had proved to him that he wasn’t completely useless and damaged, he was able to push his injuries to the far corners of his mind, lock them up somewhere at the periphery of his consciousness and let them rot there. He opened his eyes and his breath hitched, gaze meeting with Daryl’s intense stare.  
“That okay?” Came the gruffy question, concern shining through. Rick nodded quickly, letting his legs fall a bit more open, giving him easier access.  
“Very okay,” he murmured back, arching off the bed when Daryl’s finger probed deeper.

There was that one spot inside him that Shane had never really bothered with. Whatever they had done in the academy, it mostly involved cocks and getting off quickly - if Rick’s prostate had been involved in all that, it had been mostly by accident. Later, Lori hadn’t even wanted to hear about such things, and Rick, being the good, conciliatory husband that he had made himself into, had forced himself to forget about it. It was quite a shock to him then, when Daryl’s searching finger found its mark and sent heat rushing through his veins.  
“Fuck!” Rick gasped, his head tipping back and digging into the pillow, hips shifting mindlessly to get more of that forgotten pleasure. The sensation was so shocking that he couldn’t stop the low moan that bubbled up his throat. And Daryl didn’t stop there.

He slid his finger out then pushed it back in, the skin of it - roughened up with hard work and bike repairs - dragged along Rick’s sensitive flesh, making him dizzy with pleasure. Especially when Daryl, seemingly on a mission from god, made sure to rub it over his prostate every chance he had, pressing against it harder or lighter, making small circles, then just passing over it firmly.

When another finger joined the first, Rick knew he was well and truly done. His body wouldn’t stop twisting on the sheets, his left hand shooting to Daryl’s head and gripping the messy strands, forcing his head back and keeping him close as Rick leaned forward to mouth at his neck. A shudder went through Daryl when Rick worried the delicate skin between his teeth, his right forearm traveling down Daryl’s back until it landed on his waist. The fingers thrusting inside his ass were persistent and unyielding, stretching him open with maddening precision, and Rick let himself get lost in the sensations, biting at Daryl’s shoulder and feeling the muscles under his mouth twitch and tremble.

On a whim, Rick let his hand slip from Daryl’s hair, then pushed it lower, down his chest, until he could wrap his fingers around Daryl’s dick. It was hot and hard, leaking all over Rick’s stomach and his own desperate length, and while he couldn’t _believe_ it was actually happening, he was so wound up by it all that when Daryl tried to add another finger, he jerked his hips away.  
“One more,” Daryl rasped above him, leaning back a bit to look right into Rick’s eyes.  
“No,” Rick protested, shaking his head minutely. “I’m too close,” he added, giving Daryl’s cock a small squeeze. The way Daryl’s hips rocked sharply into his fist proved that Daryl wasn’t far behind, either.  
“Don’t wanna hurt ya,” Daryl whispered, but withdrew his fingers nevertheless, making Rick groan in protest. Now that he had had a taste of how it was to have Daryl inside, he didn’t want him to go.

Biting his lip, he watched as Daryl found the little bottle among the sheets, opened it and lubed himself up quickly. It was then, when he felt too hot all of a sudden, watching Daryl’s hand slip over his cock, that Rick remembered that he was still wearing that damned coat. An idea came to him and, with a small smile, Rick sat up. Ignoring Daryl’s questioning gaze, he turned around and shuffled on the bed, until he was on his knees, most of his weight supported by his left hand, the white bandage on his damaged wrist hovering an inch above the covers.

There was silence behind him, silence so complete that Rick almost turned around to check on Daryl. Before he could as much as throw a glimpse over his shoulder, though, there was a low growl and, a second later, strong arms wrapped around his middle. Daryl heaved him up to sit on his heels, pulling until Rick’s back was pressed against his chest.  
“Like this,” he murmured, leaning over Rick’s shoulder and mouthing at his ear. “Shit… _Rick…”_ There was a pause after that, Daryl’s hips shifting behind him, the hot line of his dick pressing into the crack of Rick’s ass just under the coat.

Rick was almost sure that it would get stained with precome. _He sucked in a sharp breath when he realized that he didn’t give a fuck._ Daryl was behind him, holding him, his forehead falling to Rick’s shoulder and his chest pulling away from his back. Rick moaned when he caught on with what Daryl was doing - watching his own cock pressing between Rick’s cheeks, thrusting up until the head dirtied the soft fur lining the coat. The picture of it was so filthy that Rick’s own dick jerked, precome flowing out and tickling along his shaft. He brought his left hand to give himself a rub, but it was unexpectedly caught by Daryl’s fingers, then pulled up and behind his head. Blindly, Rick reached a bit further back and grabbed a fistful of Daryl’s unruly hair, arching his body and pushing his ass out. He was on fire and he wanted Daryl inside already.

With a low growl, Daryl’s right hand disappeared from around his waist and sneaked between them, and a moment later, Daryl was lining up and pushing _in,_ and _oh fuck but was he big._ He was insistent, too, sliding into Rick until he couldn’t possibly go any further, robbing Rick of any air he might have had left in his lungs. Not really knowing what to do with himself, Rick threw his right arm back, attempting to hold onto Daryl somehow with his other limb, too. Daryl was quicker, however, and he managed to grab Rick’s arm with his left hand, then held it close to his chest. Rick had a brief second to glance down at Daryl’s strong fingers wrapped around the bandage, for the first time wishing he didn’t have it on. With the coat still sitting firmly on his shoulders, covering his whole back, his points of contact with Daryl were too few. Suddenly, Rick _needed_ all and any contact he could get.

And then, he couldn’t think anymore, could barely _breathe,_ because Daryl started to move, really _move_ behind him, drawing back and plunging right in, fucking him with strong, sure moves. The thrusts were slow at first, but his cock went in deep enough to curl Rick’s toes. He gasped and threw his head back, narrowly missing Daryl’s nose.  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he chanted, in tune with Daryl’s quiet groans, eyes screwed shut and his lungs on fire. His body was slowly turning into a heated mess, muscles twitching as if electrocuted every time Daryl’s length brushed along his prostate. And Daryl made damn sure to do it as often as he could.

Rick’s hand was still tangled in Daryl’s hair, tugging it hard enough to hurt, and his other arm was kept securely in Daryl’s grasp. On one of the harder thrusts, one that threatened to send them both falling face-first on the bed, Rick panicked and tried to tug his right arm free to stop the fall. Daryl caught him in time, pulling him back again, righting their positions a bit, but the moment of struggle made Rick’s bandage come loose. With a growl, Daryl tugged it all the way off, let it fall to bed and wrapped his fingers around Rick’s scarred, bare skin.

It all became a blur after that. Daryl’s hips speeding up, his thrusts getting more jerky, less coordinated, his cock hitting Rick’s sweet spot over and over again, until he was coming, a keening noise shaking itself loose from his throat, dick spilling on the sheets under them, untouched. Daryl held him close, never ceasing his rocking, until with a groan resembling Rick’s name he came, too. The world was a dizzy mirage around them, and Rick was grateful when Daryl used what was left of his brain power and pulled them both to lie on their sides, away from the wet spot. He was still deep inside Rick’s ass, arms wound around Rick’s waist tightly enough to stop him from taking a deeper breath, but all Rick could focus on was Daryl’s raspy whispering.

_“Rick… Fuck, Rick… Rick…”_

It drifted off into a hum, like a prayer in an abandoned church, and Rick swallowed heavily, trying to get through the scratchy dryness in his throat. He felt good, _better than good…_ he felt fantastic. It didn’t matter that he was lying in bed wearing his coat, with Daryl’s slowly softening dick still inside him, with their sweat drying off and making them cold. It didn’t matter that he had had issues before, that he still _had_ them even now, because they didn’t play any part here. It didn’t matter that Daryl’s fingers traveled down his arm until they encountered his scarred wrist, then wrapped around it protectively, rough skin against tender marks.

Slowly, so very slowly, a realization dawned upon him. The pace of it was so glacial that Rick thought Daryl might have fallen asleep behind him by the time the words formed fully inside his head. He was still high on endorphins, his body sated and happy, and it didn’t even occur to him to censor whatever comes out of his mouth.  
“I think I love you…” Rick whispered in awe, his voice so low it was more of a breathy gasp.

Daryl _jerked_ against him, his whole frame shifting forward and curling in, hips pressing into Rick’s ass. The cock inside him was soft by now and it slipped out instead of fucking into him again, but it didn’t matter. When Daryl shivered violently behind him, Rick cursed himself for dumping it on him like that. What if Daryl didn’t feel that way at all? What if it was just that friends-with-benefits type of relationship to him?  
“You don’t have to… It’s okay if you don’t… _feel_ the same,” Rick mumbled, attempting to backpedal and reverse any damage he might have caused to whatever it was that they had. He could live with his feelings, it wouldn’t be the first time anyway, but he dreaded to think what he would do if Daryl wanted out of his life.

There was silence around them again, but this time it wasn’t full of anticipation like when they were about to fuck. This time it was full of something weird, something _choked,_ and when Daryl let go of Rick’s wrist, the chill of the room almost made Rick shake. He lied there, waiting for Daryl to get out of bed and out of _here_ , holding his breath and trying not to let his emotions strangle him.

He practically jumped when, instead of getting out of bed, Daryl remained behind him. His hands didn’t leave Rick’s body completely, getting a good grip on his shoulders instead and tugging him around until he was facing Daryl.

Daryl’s gaze was like a laser, focused on searching his soul through his eyes alone. Rick let him, only now painfully aware of how that might have sounded - they had just had sex, for fuck’s sake. _You weren’t supposed to declare love five minutes after shooting your brain out through your dick, not if you wanted to be taken seriously._  
“Ya mean it?” Daryl asked on a whisper, and he sounded so vulnerable, so _soft_ for some reason, that Rick couldn’t help himself and leaned forward, bringing his arms around him and hugging him tightly.  
“I do. I love you,” Rick whispered right into his ear. Kissed it afterwards, too. Daryl let out a long breath, pushing his nose into the furry collar of Rick’s coat. Rick could feel that he was still a bit tense, and he didn’t like it at all. Turning his head, he kissed Daryl’s ear again. Moving slowly, Rick trailed soft lips along Daryl’s jaw, until he reached his lips.

“You don’t have to say it… you don’t have to feel it. It’s okay. I just… I just wanted you to know,” he whispered against Daryl’s mouth. After another long, indulgent kiss, Rick leaned back and looked at him soberly, just to make sure he was okay.  
“I…” Daryl started, then trailed off, closing his eyes briefly. Rick smiled reassuringly, then pressed a quick kiss to Daryl’s furrowed brow, trying to ease the frown.  
“It’s okay,” he reminded him, then pulled away completely. “We should take a shower or something,” he proposed.

Just as he was about to crawl over Daryl to get out of bed and to the bathroom, Daryl caught his hand, stopping him.  
“Rick -”  
“It’s okay, really,” Rick told him again, but Daryl just shook his head.  
“Nah. Need ya to know,” he gruffed out, looking up at Rick, eyes narrow but _oh so warm._ “Love ya, too. Have fer some time… ya just surprised me.”

Rick’s bright smile could light up at least half of the galaxy.

 

-&-

 

They took the shower together which, in retrospect, lengthened it to a full hour. The water wasted was definitely worth it, though - neither Rick nor Daryl had ever felt so good and relaxed stepping out of there and into the bedroom once more.

Now, they were lying under the heavy comforter once more, Daryl on his back and Rick cuddled up against him, with his head pillowed on Daryl’s chest. They were both sleepy, but there was something about today that lingered and chased their dreams away for the time being.  
“Why so short?” Daryl asked quietly, fingers busy threading through Rick’s hair, thinking about the photo he had seen of Rick in his police days. Rick shrugged.  
“It’s easier to handle like that…” he answered after a longer moment. “Combing your hair’s not that easy when you’re right-handed and your right hand is missing… Why? You don’t like it?”  
“Nah… was just wonderin’,” Daryl said, “seen the photos in the hallway.”  
“Oh.”

Rick fell silent after that, and if it hadn’t been for his thumb grazing absurd patterns on Daryl’s abdomen, he would have thought Rick had fallen asleep.  
“Could let it grow, I guess…” Rick mumbled finally.  
“Ya don’t have to,” Daryl told him quickly, hoping what he had said wouldn’t be misinterpreted by his… lover? _Boyfriend?_

_Was that what they were now?_

“I kind of… like that idea,” Rick admitted, sighing, and Daryl had to remind himself that they were talking about Rick’s hair. “I wore it longer because I liked it like that. Lori hated it when it got past my ears… hated it with Carl, too. She always liked clean-cut guys.”  
“Pffff…” Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “Ain’t anythin’ better than curls ya can grab,” he muttered, before he remembered that it probably wasn’t his place to say that. Rick levered himself up and propped himself on his elbow, face turning to Daryl.  
“Guess I can try, then.”

Daryl couldn’t help it - he leaned in and kissed him softly, deeply, with all the emotions that were tearing at his heart.  
“You’ll have to help me, though,” Rick whispered against his mouth when they parted for breath. Daryl hummed.  
“I can do that.” He nodded, giving Rick another kiss.  
“Matter of fact… why don’t you move in here? You spent so much time in here anyway…”  
“Ya want me to move in with ya?” Daryl asked, eyes wide.  
“Well… This house will need more than my left hand. And I _do_ have that empty garage. There’s that bit about neighbors’ homes being rather old and needing some repairs and hmffff…”

This time, when Daryl kissed him, it was passionate and fiery, robbing Rick’s lungs of breath and twisting his insides until he felt dizzy. When they pulled apart, gasping heavily, Daryl was the first to speak.  
“Okay,” he said simply, nodding hard, biting his lip, his gaze meeting Rick’s.

When they finally fell asleep in each other’s arms, it was with their minds clear and their hearts beating in sync. And if they dreamed about a future together, well… they had the rest of their life to make it work. And neither Rick nor Daryl had any doubts that they could - in their own way, on their own terms… _together._


End file.
